Captain's Prerogative, Part III: The Redemption
by fictiongal
Summary: Captain Picard sacrificed a personal life for Starfleet, until he resigned to pursue his abandoned dreams. Now his hopes are threatened when the Borg come calling and two warring omnipotent forces put his ship in the middle. Look for hot romance, humor, adventure, plus Spock and Q in the mix. Book 3 in the "Captains..." trilogy. (Comments appreciated.)
1. Chapter 1

(Author's notes: Spoiler alert for all Star Trek TNG televised shows and movies up through and including Nemesis. This story takes place after all of them, references occasional plot points from them, and follows the plot set forth in my two prior novels 'Captain's Prerogative, Parts 1 and II.' Rated M for sexual content, and adult themes.)

Introduction (A quick summation of the events in Captain's Prerogative, Part II - Change of Heart):

Emotionally spent after killing his own clone and witnessing Data's self-sacrifice, Captain Picard relinquished command of the Enterprise and retired from Starfleet to find a new start by accepting command of a rogue ship and renewing his romance with Shea, a woman genetically engineered by D, the omnipotent ancestor of the Q. Picard never anticipated that he would discover Data was alive serving aboard Shea's rogue ship, that his new crew would be labeled outlaws and pursued by Will Riker, the new captain of the Enterprise, nor that they would all be caught up in a power struggle between D and the Q fighting for control over an entity residing in the woman he loved. Despite his best efforts to negotiate a truce, the conflict ended with her destruction. Fortunately, she and Data devised a back-up plan that preserved her memories and restored her in the body of her immature clone. Unfortunately, Picard has since had to learn to live with her in that condition.

Meanwhile, in exchange for a full pardon, Picard and his crew agreed to work with the Federation by periodically taking on special high risk assignments…

* * *

Captain's Prerogative, Part III: The Redemption

Chapter 1 - A New Assignment

Black Ops… an old Earth nomenclature for clandestine operations behind enemy lines where the party who gives the orders denies any knowledge of the party carrying them out. In this case, the party giving the orders was the United Federation of Planets. The party designated to carry them out was a rogue ship under the command of Captain Jean-Luc Picard.

Seated at his desk in his new Ready Room, Captain Picard reviewed the contents of the encrypted message he had received - another assignment, one he had chosen to accept. He enjoyed having the option to refuse should he find the job ethically objectionable or so risk laden that it qualified as a suicide mission. So far he had only rejected one - an excursion deep into Borg territory. Another group had taken on the task, and hadn't been heard from since. After several personal encounters with the Borg, Picard had no desire to go anywhere near them if he could possibly avoid it. Fortunately, this new assignment had nothing to do with the Borg. Instead, it involved the Romulans and Ambassador Spock.

Picard well remembered his last encounter with Spock, and knew the Ambassador had been determined to pursue reunification between the Vulcan and Romulan Empires despite numerous setbacks and betrayals. Spock had chosen to go literally underground on Romulus, working with a group there who agreed with his goals, or at least claimed that they did. With Romulans, it was always difficult to be certain of an individual's true motives. Romulan culture promoted political intrigue, power grabs, vengeance and above-all self-interest. Complicated plots were often years in the making, to the point that they seemed to defy all logic… and logic was what Spock relied upon. In this case, apparently to his detriment, as it had resulted in his being taken hostage by a radical splinter group. Since Spock had been operating on his own, the Federation had no standing to barter for his release. But that didn't mean they wanted him in the hands of Romulan terrorists, or worse, the Romulan secret police, the Tal Shiar, who would be quite willing to employ any and all means necessary to elicit classified information from him.

Picard had once before tried to disentangle Spock from Romulus, but Spock remained undeterred. Spock believed that the Romulan people were set on an evolutionary path toward the triumph of logic over unbridled emotion, one that would eventually lead to reunification with their estranged Vulcan cousins. Even if Picard and his crew were successful in extricating Spock from his current predicament, no doubt the stubborn minded half-Vulcan, would turn around and dive back into the Romulan fray again. In the end, rescuing him might prove to be an exercise in futility. Nevertheless, Picard had taken on the task for one very personal reason. He owed Spock.

Years earlier, when Picard had been in danger of losing his command and even his mind trying to deal with the aftereffects of breaking his mental bond with Shea, Spock had come to his aid. Spock had characterized Picard's multi-layered connection with him as ironic. Picard had to agree, especially upon learning that Spock had helped raise the son Picard had unknowingly fathered with Shea during his brief sojourn in the past. Yes, he definitely owed Spock. They both did.

"Ship, where is Shea?" he asked aloud.

"In Holodek two," Ship replied.

Picard stood and exited his outer door which opened onto Ship's Bridge. Data, his Number One, sat next to the Captain's chair, while two recent recruits, a Vulcan woman named Sakonna, and a young human male named Michael Yates, manned the helm and operations stations.

"I've accepted a new assignment," Picard announced to them. "Assemble the senior staff for a meeting in…" he thought for a moment on how much time he wanted to give himself, "thirty minutes."

"Yes, sir," Data replied evenly, but Picard recognized curiosity in Data's expression. Over the last year, Data had made noticeable progress in accessing his emotion chip appropriately. Much of his previous awkwardness had vanished. He was even experimenting with the use of contractions.

Picard left the Bridge heading for Holodek Two. Adding two holodeks had significantly improved morale, reduced the need for shore leave, and become a selling point in soliciting new recruits. In the past year, Picard had increased his crew from the minimal staff of twenty-seven they had started with to a hundred and thirty-four. One of the many advantages of a living ship was its shape-shifting abilities. As their needs had changed, Ship had grown and altered to accommodate them. In addition to the holodeks, Picard had added his Ready Room, a Stellar Cartography room, and a dedicated Conference Room. The old multi-purpose area had expanded into a Recreation Lounge/Theater and Ship had grown additional personnel quarters to house everyone comfortably.

Another change was establishing a formal name for Ship. Picard had wanted one that would be suitably impressive, indicative of their mission and helpful in recruiting. A wide variety had been proposed and had been the subject of hot debate for weeks. The one they had settled upon, after Picard had wearied of the internal squabbling and finally put his foot down, was the "Redemption." It felt appropriate. And Ship liked it. Shea smirked every time she heard it, which annoyed him, but then much of what she did these days annoyed him. He recognized that much of his annoyance was directly attributable to personal frustration.

Since her untimely death at the hands of the Q, and her subsequent restoration in the immature body of a clone, Picard's relationship with her had become a platonic one. It didn't help that she looked every bit as woman-like as before, and was not above using her genetically engineered charms to get her way. Other than the events of that final night of sad good-bye's, she had lost none of her memories in the transition. She remembered all the tricks of an experienced seductress, but because she felt no desire of her own, she would never let things go too far. To date, the body she now occupied remained virginal. It also didn't help that she continued to share his quarters and sleep in the nude. Every day and night of this past year had been an exercise in personal restraint. He was being tested and he didn't like it one bit. Dr. Bashir believed it could be as much as another year before she reached maturity. Picard hoped it would be far shorter. He sorely missed the overwhelmingly intimate physical and mental connection he had shared with her before.

When the holodek doors opened for him, he entered and looked around at the program she was running, a mountainous landscape lit in orange red tones of sunset. He spotted her uniform on the ground near his feet, shook his head in annoyance and grabbed it.

"Ship, where is Shea in this holo and how do I reach her?"

"She is meditating at the highest peak, a point which required one hour twenty-three minutes of rock climbing on her part."

"I need a short cut. Please construct one."

"Yes, my Captain," Ship replied and a smooth dirt path appeared before him. "This will take you to the pinnacle."

Picard thanked Ship and started along the path, following its twists and turns upward, edged along cliff faces looking into deep valleys below. A few minutes later, he came upon a jutting peak and saw Shea's bare back and refracted light from her crystalline locks. She was sitting in a lotus position, facing away from him. As he approached, her eyes remained closed, so he sat down quietly and took in the view.

"Lovely sunset," he said. "Manufactured, of course, but still…"

She smiled to hear her own words quoted back to her. She'd said the same thing about a sunset on Risa during a romantic vacation they had shared before her death. "At least there, the sun and sky were real," she replied and opened her green cat-eyes. She glanced back at the path that seemed to be floating in the air behind her. "I see you cheated."

"We're short on time," Picard replied and handed her, her uniform. "Data is assembling the senior staff. I've accepted a new assignment."

"What, no discussion first? No debate on the pros and cons?"

"Not this time. It's a hostage rescue. The hostage is Spock."

The amused look on her face departed. "Who has him?"

"Romulans. .. some underground radical faction hoping to speed up reunification by blowing things up and kidnapping influential people."

"Oh. Well, you know he supports reunification. He might be exactly where he wants to be."

"It's occurred to me. However, the Tal Shiar are hunting for him, too. They won't hesitate to execute the lot them, Spock included. Hurry up and get dressed," he ordered. "We have a meeting to attend."

She stood and slipped her uniform on, zipping it closed in front. He turned and started back along the floating path.

"I thought you were in a hurry," she said.

He looked back at her in alarm. "Not that much."

"Don't be a spoil sport…"

"No!" he said. Then the path beneath his feet vanished and he cried out as the ground rushed toward him. Shea fell beside him, screaming, her hair flying wild. Just before crashing onto the hard rock floor, all motion stopped and they floated horizontally above the ground. By then, her screaming had turned to laughter. He twisted upright and just as his feet touched, gravity reasserted itself abruptly, nearly bringing him to his knees. He cursed aloud as he found his footing again.

"Wasn't that great?" she exclaimed through her laughter.

"No, it wasn't great." He tugged his clothing straight, catching his breath.

"You should have seen the look on your face," she said, still giggling.

He glared at her. "I can't wait 'til you finish growing up."

He still felt a little shaken when they entered the conference room. His senior staff of battle-hardened veterans sat at attention - Data, his Number One, Chorack, his Klingon head of security; Dr. Julian Bashir, chief medical officer; Sakonna, the Vulcan ex-Maquis weapons smuggler turned supply officer; Montgomery Scott, chief engineer; and finally Bleton, their verbally silent, green bug-eyed starwhale expert. He quickly explained the nature of the assignment he had accepted.

"We'll be in a race," Picard told them. "If the Tal Shiar find this splinter group first, they'll be interrogated then executed, Spock included."

"Getting ahead of the Tal Shiar will not be a simple task," Chorack commented. "They are deeply embedded and unanimously feared on Romulus."

"True enough," Picard agreed, "but we have something they don't - a homing beacon. Shea and Spock were bonded years ago. She can find him with a mind scan."

"It is unfortunate that we must employ such a disagreeable tactic," Sakonna said. The Vulcan female was one of the Maquis sympathizers whose release they had obtained from a Federation prison three months ago. Serving aboard the Redemption had bought her a pardon. "Uninvited mind scans are a gross violation of privacy and an insult to someone of the Ambassador's rank."

"She's right about that," Shea said. "Besides, I doubt he even wants to be found. He's bent on this reunification idea and no one's been able to dissuade him so far."

"Aye. He can be very stubborn," Scotty agreed, "but he's no fool and I can't imagine him being suicidal."

"Nor can I. It's clear that he's in considerable jeopardy. This is our best chance for locating him," Picard stated.

"Assuming he doesn't mentally barricade himself," Shea cautioned. "He can be very single-minded."

"So can you," Dr. Bashir said, looking a bit puzzled. "You're not suggesting that his telepathic defenses are a match for you."

"To do so would be clearly misleading," Sakonna confirmed. She raised her slanted eyebrows accusingly at Shea.

"But like you said, it's unethical."

"You weren't concerned about ethics when it involved me," Sakonna challenged her.

"There's more involved here."

"How so?" Sakonna inquired.

"I promised not to have any contact with him… ever."

Picard regarded her with some surprise. "Well, that is unfortunate. But keeping your promise can't be the deciding factor here, not under these circumstances. You can apologize later. I'm sure he'll understand."

"I doubt it."

"I've accepted this mission," he told her firmly.

Shea fell silent as he doled out their responsibilities.

"Sakonna, you will be yourself, as usual, an ex-Maquis weapons smuggler, but this time your item for sale will be Shea posing as a high profile Vulcan official, available to the highest bidder. That should generate interest from all sides and allow you to get close enough for her to locate the Ambassador. When you determine who has him, that's whose bid you accept, which will put Shea on the inside. Once pinpointed, Ship may be able to transport both of them directly out, but if not, Chorack, you and your men should be at the ready. Data, you will be in charge of penetrating planetary and localized defensive shields as usual. Mr. Scott, and Bleton, I'll rely on you to make sure Ship is ready to phase through those shields and remain cloaked at all times. Dr. Bashir, you're in charge of making Shea look like a Vulcan and scan like one. So that's the plan, any questions?" When there were none, he said, "Very well. Set course, and make ready."

As the staff pushed away from the table, Shea took a big breath. "Wait."

"What now?" Picard asked.

"It's about the promise I mentioned. Breaking it could affect what happens on the ground and what you need to plan for."

Picard frowned at her in annoyance for withholding vital information till this point, but he waved everyone to sit down again. "All right then. We're listening."

Shea looked around at them. "Okay. What I'm about to tell you, mustn't leave this room. I'm seriously violating Spock's privacy and I wouldn't if I could think of any way out of it, but…"

"Get to the point," Picard urged.

"Fine. I'm sure you're all familiar with Pon Farr, and how it affects a Vulcan every seven years when..."

"Must we go into this?" Sakonna interrupted.

"See? Vulcans don't like to discuss this aspect of themselves. It's private, so you can appreciate my reluctance. The problem is that mental contact between Spock and myself could trigger Pon Farr in him."

"You flatter yourself," Sakonna said derisively. "Pon Farr is internally driven. It does not result from outside influence. Besides Ambassador Spock has aged beyond Pon Farr."

"Maybe, but then again."

Picard stared at Shea in alarm. "You're trying to tell us he might go temporarily insane. This is why you promised to stay away from him?"

She shrugged, "In part."

"Damn it," he said.

"This is a ridiculous concern," Sakonna stated. "Do you people know nothing of Vulcan physiology?"

"We know plenty about it," Dr. Bashir said. "What you don't understand is Shea's physiology. They were bonded. If she says Spock could lose his mind, you'd better plan for it."

"I remember when Spock went into Pon Farr the first time on the old Enterprise," Scotty said, shaking head. "He very nearly killed Captain Kirk."

"Are you certain he will react to you? Even with your being in an immature state?" Picard asked Shea.

"No, I'm not sure. He may not. Or he may."

"So we need to be prepared to sedate him then," Picard concluded with a sigh.

"Shouldn't be a problem," Dr. Bashir replied. "I can come up with something workable."

"Very well. Make it so," Picard told him, then looked at Shea. "Do you have any other gems you'd like to share before we embark on this rescue mission?"

"No. That's it. Honest."

He stared at her for a long moment. "Dismissed," he ordered finally, then watched the room empty. He remained seated and worried. Whenever she added the word 'honest', little alarm bells went off in his head.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - The Rescue Plan

Shea checked her reflection in Sickbay's bathroom mirror again. She didn't like what she saw - black upswept eyebrows over dark brown eyes with round pupils, pointed ears and long black hair held in place by metal bands wrapping it tightly into a long thick ponytail. The latter hurt mildly but continuously as her dyed living mane protested its containment. Her basic facial structure remained unchanged so that anyone who knew her personally would readily recognize her beneath the Vulcan veneer Julian had surgically created. It took conscious effort on her part to prevent her natural regenerative abilities from counteracting his efforts.

"Very fetching," Picard commented wryly from behind her.

"I'm glad you find this amusing," she said. "I doubt Spock will."

"No. I don't suppose he will, but you have the tranquilizer if needed. Dr. Bashir assures me it's quite safe, so don't hesitate to use it."

She nodded and compulsively ran her tongue over the cap on her tooth holding the formula Julian had created to react to Spock's Vulcan DNA but not her own. With one kiss, she could knock Spock out cold. She liked the idea of doing that even less than posing as a Vulcan prisoner on the auction block.

"Ready?" Picard asked.

She took a deep breath and nodded again meeting his gaze. She saw his hand start to reach for her then drop abruptly when she stiffened in response. He sighed and turned away for her to follow him. Instead, she stood still and said, "I'm sorry."

He turned back and grimaced. "I appreciate the sympathy, but you don't owe me an apology. It's not your fault. None of this is. If anyone should apologize, it's me for being impatient. I'm also sorry for forcing you to break your promise to Spock. I could claim ignorance when I accepted this assignment, but I would have made the same choice even so. He needs rescuing and I'm convinced you're the best chance he's got."

"You're the captain," she said, giving him her standard 'don't blame me if it doesn't go well' response - one he well recognized.

"Let's go," he said.

Sakonna was waiting for them and raised disapproving eyebrows when she saw Shea's transformation into a Vulcan. "I hope you will not bring shame to my people."

"No, Sakonna, I'll leave that to you," Shea replied.

Sakonna smirked and presented a set of handcuffs. "Turn around, prisoner," she ordered.

Shea did as requested and Sakonna attached the cuffs to her wrists behind her… a little tighter than necessary she noted. Sakonna took her by the arm and guided her into the waiting shuttle that had been redesigned to mimic an old Maquis transport vessel. Picard followed them in. Sakonna buckled her into the restraints on the seat, making sure her prisoner status would be convincing.

Picard crouched before her. "Who are you?"

Shea took on her designated role, sitting stiffly erect. "I am T'Pel, High Consul of the Fifth Order," she stated adopting the thick Vulcan accent indicative of her origin and rank. "Speak not to me."

He nodded and smiled. "Excellent. You'll be fine. Just get in and out as quickly as possible. No unnecessary risks. We'll be watching, ready to move if you need assistance. Good luck."

She nodded in response and he started to move away, but paused instead. He held her gaze a little too long, but she was tied to her chair and unable to distance herself.

"Please come home safely," he whispered and kissed her on the cheek.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself against his affection, then he stood and exited the shuttle. Unable to embrace and return his desire was painful for both of them, so she worked hard keeping him slightly irritated and off-balance. She felt more at ease when he was short tempered with her. Even as the thought took form, she recognized its stupidity, fueled by the push pull feelings she experienced, wanting to be close on the one hand and as distant as possible on the other. She gave him mixed messages, because that's what she felt inside - completely mixed up.

The shuttle's door closed, and Sakonna took the helm. "It's just you and me now," Sakonna told her.

As the shuttle powered up for departure, Shea regarded the Vulcan woman she considered somewhat of an enigma. Sakonna had chosen a life on the edge of legality, supporting the Maquis cause as a weapons smuggler. Shea knew Sakonna's motives were emotionally driven, despite her continued assertion of the logic of her choices. Shea had invaded Sakonna's mental privacy to determine if the woman would be a worthy addition to Ship's crew. Even though that telepathic invasion had resulted in her being released from a Federation prison, Sakonna still resented it. Shea had little sympathy. She would tolerate no secrets among the crew. She knew each of them inside and out. Jean-Luc Picard was their captain, but she was the force behind him, a role she took very seriously. Friendship, loyalty, and moral support were far from everything he wanted from her, but that was the best she could offer him, for now.

She found it a strange way to live. She carried over two hundred years of experience and memory in her mind, lived in this reality and others, clearly recalling it - falling in love, having sex, birthing children. She should be a fully mature woman able to express herself in accordance, but that was before her prior body had been destroyed. Now she lived in a young immature clone of herself and this new body told her men should be kept at bay. She hated being a slave to her hormones, but that was how D had constructed her. As asexual and defensive as she felt now, assuming things went as they had before, she would turn into a raging nymphomaniac when she matured. She wasn't sure which condition was preferable…neither, she thought, but something in between which seemed to be the norm for others, had never been an option for her. She existed at one extreme or the other… all or nothing. For now, it was nothing. And _nothing_ would be a definite problem if Spock reacted to her the way she feared. Come to think of it, _all_ could be equally problematical. She ran her tongue across the cap on her tooth again, hoping it wouldn't have to use it.

#

Picard watched as the shuttle left the bay and Ship re-established the shields after it departed.

"I assume you are in contact, Ship," Picard said.

"Affirmative, my Captain. We will maintain our telepathic link continuously until her return."

"Once she's in place, I'll have you display what she sees upon the main viewer."

"Understood. Are you especially worried, my Captain?"

"No more than usual. Alert me when they make contact, or of any change in status."

"Of course. Please do not worry."

Picard almost told Ship that was his job, but knew it was pointless. This was a frequent conversation. Ship always tried to comfort him when Shea was on assignment. Dealing with a sentient vessel presented a very different sort of interaction than he had experienced on the Enterprise. He left the hangar bay and headed for the Bridge. As expected, Data sat in the first officer's chair monitoring the shuttle's progress and making sure no one detected Ship's presence. To date, Ship's natural cloaking abilities had proved to surpass any existing technology. The only real danger was that somebody might accidentally run into them. On a few occasions they'd had to make a sudden evasive maneuver to avoid just such an occurrence. There were pros and cons to being invisible.

"Status report," Picard requested automatically and took his seat beside Data.

"We have phased through the planetary defense shields without detection," Data reported. "Sakonna is following the designated route, awaiting contact."

As they waited, Julian Bashir appeared on the Bridge and took the other seat next to him. "Hope you don't mind," Bashir said, by way of asking permission without actually asking.

Picard found the doctor's attitude amusing. He was never disrespectful of Picard's authority but he had a naïve way of making assumptions. After getting to know him better, Picard was no longer surprised that the doctor had chosen them over Starfleet. Bashir was an excellent physician, but his casual demeanor was a poor fit with strict military discipline and rules of rank. Picard's leadership on the Redemption was every bit as demanding as it had been aboard the Enterprise, but the rules of interaction were less formal. Most everyone called each other by their first names or a simple title, and the word 'sir' was seldom heard from anyone other than Data. As Picard waited, it occurred to him that his Number One had been particularly quiet.

"Data, I've noticed that you've had little to say about this assignment."

"Yes, sir," he agreed and offered nothing further.

"Do you have any concerns you would like to share at this juncture?"

"No, sir."

Picard frowned at Data's clipped responses. "I don't think I can remember a time when you have been quite so un-opinionated."

"An incorrect assessment, Captain. I have an opinion. I am…I'm simply not ready to express it."

Picard was about to press further when Ship interrupted. "They are being hailed, my Captain."

"Let's hear it," Picard ordered.

The audio started in mid-sentence. "…demand that you identify yourself. I repeat, you are entering Romulan space. Unknown craft, identify…"

"This is Sakonna, a free trader, requesting safe passage to the Krocton Segment."

"Acknowledged, Sakonna. We are sending an escort. Do not deviate from space corridor three or you will be destroyed."

"Understood."

At that point the audio exchange ended. Picard nodded and relaxed a little. "They're in. Sakonna's cover as a contraband trader still works."

"You weren't sure it would?" Bashir asked.

"Nothing is ever a hundred percent certain. I seldom worry about what I know. It's what I don't know that worries me."

"Interesting," Data commented, turning from his control panel to face them. "Your observation compares favorably with what I too am experiencing. My unexpressed opinion is a worry based on something I do not… don't know."

"What is it you don't know?" Picard asked.

"How Shea will respond to Ambassador Spock."

Picard hesitated for a moment. "I'm not sure what you mean. How she will respond…"

"Nor am I. I am only certain that it is a question that we have not asked, and one that she did not volunteer to answer."

Picard began to grasp Data's inference. He turned to the doctor. "If Spock goes into Pon Farr, could it affect her?"

Bashir frowned in thought for a moment. "Seems unlikely, then again… if they're mentally connected when he does, it might. I suppose it's possible that she could get caught up in the strength of his emotions."

"You're saying his sex drive could override her lack of it?"

"It's theoretically possible, but to know for sure, I'd have to test the theory."

"Hence, my concern," Data concluded.

_And now mine as well_, Picard thought to himself, and a wave of jealousy washed over him before he could stop it. He determinedly pushed the primitive emotion aside, knowing it had no place in his thinking. He smoothed his uniform down and got his thoughts back in order.

"Whatever occurs, we'll deal with it."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - The Rescue and the Consequences

Within the hour, Ship reported that the shuttle had landed safely and Sakonna had communicated the nature of the item she held for trade. The bidding was about to commence.

"Aren't you worried about this bidding process?" Bashir said as they waited again. "What's stopping the Tal Shiar from simply confiscating Sakonna's prisoner?"

"It's a risk, I grant you," Picard acknowledged. "However, Sakonna has brought them valuable items in the past and I'm fairly certain they'll be reluctant to jeopardize their supply source. And to further reduce any temptation to do so, I chose Shea's identity carefully. She's valuable enough that they'll want her, but not so much that her going to someone else would constitute a significant loss. Unlike Spock. To get their hands on him, they'd blow up a world."

"Not to mention us," Bashir said.

"Not to mention," Picard agreed with a half smile.

"After what you and Data did to save the Romulan Empire, you'd think they'd be a little friendlier."

"Oh they are. If I had come here openly to share a cup of tea, I'm sure everyone would have been quite cordial. But since I'm here to steal Spock out from under their noses, the tea party will have to wait."

As Sakonna communicated with the interested parties on Romulus, Shea went into a trancelike state searching with her mind for a familiar thought pattern, a unique mental signature. In a relatively short period of time, she felt him, her old friend, her past mentor and at one time, her bonded lover, until things had changed and they'd gone their separate ways. She hovered now beyond his awareness, simply enjoying the fact that he still lived. She wished she could simply leave it at that, but to know exactly where he was and the circumstances surrounding him, she would have to make contact. Something he would not welcome. She prepared herself for a fight and knocked on his mental door. She immediately let him know who it was, hoping curiosity might buy her entry. It didn't. She felt his mind slam shut.

_We're here to rescue you,_ she told him. _Just let me see where you are and who has you and I'll back off. _

No thoughts from him returned in answer, only a hard blank wall of determined resistance. He wasn't going to make this easy. She put her old loyalties aside. She wasn't about to fail Jean-Luc in favor of Spock's sensibilities. If Spock was making her choose sides, he was about to lose. She gave him one last chance to cooperate, making it clear she would not leave him be, no matter how much he fought. Sadly, he did not cave. There would be no middle ground, no compromise. She would have to force herself upon him. Some described the act as a mental rape. She wasn't proud of what she was about to do. Perhaps he didn't believe she would be willing to go that far. His mistake. She slammed into him, taking control. She could feel the male body she now owned, his Vulcan heart racing, his mind raging helplessly under her command.

_Sorry_, she told him, _you left me no choice._

She made him look around and recognized that he was, in fact, a prisoner, locked within a primitively barred cell. _The ruins of an abandoned penal complex? _she asked. _We're underground, aren't we?_ He refused to answer so she squeezed him harder.

_Yes, yes, damn you! Leave me!_

_Not yet. Who has imprisoned you?_

_The Quitar, a militaristic faction. Get out!_

_Who leads them?_

_Rolamn Suitar. Stop this, now!_

_Picture him. I want to see what he looks like._

An image of a dark-haired man with a stern expression and eyes that spoke of zealous fervor came into mental view.

_Got it. See you soon, Spock, _she told him and left his mind as he was telegraphing one last thought_._

_No!_

Shea opened her eyes, returning to her immediate surroundings. "Found him," she told Sakonna. "Have you been contacted by someone named Rolamn Suitar?"

"I have," she confirmed.

"That's our guy. His group is the Quitar. They have Spock locked up in an old abandoned underground prison facility."

As Shea informed Sakonna, she experienced Ship relaying the same information to Picard. It was interesting but a little confusing being aware of so much going on at once. Her contact with Spock had left her feeling sad and guilty. She would apologize, of course, not that anything she said could make up for what she'd just done. He might cover his emotions with cold logic but underneath he would be upset with her. Even so, she was looking forward to seeing him again. It had been a long time. Too bad he wasn't looking forward to seeing her. More mixed feelings - wanting to go where she wasn't wanted.

"I'll accept Suitar's bid then," Sakonna said. "It is not the highest one, but I will tell him it's because I sympathize with his cause. The assertion should not sound unreasonable coming from an ex-Maquis."

"Good. Once the trade goes down, don't hang around. Make sure you're long gone before Spock and I make our escape. We don't want anyone thinking you're to blame. We may need you in this role again."

"I understand. You may rely on my departing as quickly as possible."

Suitar looked exactly like the mental image Spock had so unwillingly shared with her. Shea took on her role as a cold haughty Vulcan consul who thought herself superior to her Romulan captors. Suitar was fooled but not impressed. He handled her roughly and dismissively as he transferred her blindfolded aboard his shuttle.

"You, my dear, will serve as an excellent bargaining chip in our negotiations with the Vulcan High Counsel for additional support," he told her as some unseen underling bound her to a seat. "Now I won't have to use an asset I value far more."

Shea knew he was referring to Spock. She hoped at the end of this transport, she would find herself locked into a cell near his. She was not disappointed. When the blindfold came off and bars swung shut in her face, she saw him there down a row of cells, at the very end. The half dozen cells between them lay empty, but she could see through the bars to where he was. So far, everything was going as planned. Then she realized Spock was pacing his cell, back and forth, back and forth, endlessly, frantically, and she knew not everything was going as planned. Normally, he would be sitting very still, like a Zen master contemplating the universe. Pacing like a demented tiger was not his usual repertoire. With his attention turned completely inward, she doubted he even knew she was there. She didn't dare call out to him in his agitated state. Her fears had been well founded. She sat down quietly and watched him.

Ship knew what she knew and vice-versa. Picard was consulting with Dr. Bashir on Spock's condition. Data and Scotty were trying to get a lock on them both to transport them up, but the task was proving difficult. The abandoned prison was far underground, and the overlying structure was constructed of materials that defended against transporting. Meanwhile, Chorack and his men were standing by. As the debate went on, Spock's pacing continued unabated. A guard entered through an outer door and approached with food and water in trays. He slipped one under the bars of Shea's cell, then moved down the row to deliver another to Spock. The guard stood and watched the Vulcan's nonstop pacing.

"Hey, what's the matter with you?" he demanded.

Spock ignored him and continued his compulsive behavior. The guard left, only to return a few minutes later with Rolamn Suitar. Suitar watched Spock then walked back over to Shea's cage.

"He's in Pon Farr, isn't he? Did you have something to do with this?"

"How could I? Pon Farr is internally driven. Even a Romulan should know that," she replied as if Suitar were mentally challenged. "Besides, he is too old."

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't," Suitar said. "Let's find out." He pulled out a disruptor and aimed it at her. "Open her cage," he ordered his companion. "Move," he told her pointing down the row. He had the other man open the cage next to Spock's. "Get in."

The door slammed shut behind her. Spock stopped his pacing, his eyes fixed on her and he was breathing hard.

"Looks a lot like Pon Farr to me," Suitar said.

Shea tried not to meet Spock's stare but his eyes were like magnets for her own. To her surprise, she felt her pulse quicken in response and a familiar pulling sensation in her loins. _Oh no_, _not now. Not with Spock_ _, _she thought in alarm, but her body wasn't listening.

Suitar nodded as he watched them. He signaled his companion, who threw a lever. The bars between her and Spock rolled aside opening the cages to each other.

"Take care of him," Suitar told her. "I need him in good health."

Shea had no retort and no opportunity to think of one. Spock came at her in one swift move. He pinned her to the bars behind, pressing hard against her, burying his face in her neck as he breathed her in. He began tearing at her clothes. If it had been anyone else, she would have thrown him off and punished him severely for the uninvited onslaught, but this was Spock. She knew him...intimately. He needed her now and it was her fault that he did. There was also the fact that her body was responding in kind, her hunger matching his, something she hadn't expected, and for which she was ill-prepared. A part of her still knew this was wrong. In his right mind, Spock wanted nothing to do with her. He had made his wishes very clear. He would regret this later and she should stop him, but fire burned in her blood as hot as his now, and she didn't want to.

Snickering laughter broke through her heat and she opened her eyes to see Suitar and his companion watching and grinning derisively. The hold Spock's lust had over her snapped with sudden outrage, and she twisted aside enough to block him just in time. She pulled his head around and kissed him deep, making sure his tongue found its way into her mouth. The cap on her tooth did its job, and Spock slumped in her arms. As she guided him to the floor, she pretended alarm.

"Something is wrong!" she called out.

"What have you done?" Suitar demanded. He trained his weapon on her again, and his companion opened the cage and rushed in. The man shoved her aside to check Spock.

"What did you do to him?" Suitar demanded again.

"I told you that he is too old," she replied coldly. "It is highly probability that he is having heart failure."

Suitar stared at the fallen Vulcan uncertainly.

Shea watched the Romulans closely waiting for an opportunity. She just needed Suitar's attention and the muzzle of that weapon to veer away ever so slightly. "Is it your intent to stand idle and allow him to die?"

"Call the physician," he told his underling, and glanced aside. "We need him alive."

In that split second of inattention, Shea flew at him. She snatched the disruptor away with one hand, and caught him under the chin with the other, crashing his head into the cage bars. The impact knocked him out. His companion gasped and would have run but she had him trapped between her and the door. He went for his communicator, so she sent the heel of her hand into his face. He fell back onto the floor and lay motionless. She plucked the communicator badges from both Romulans, then dragged Spock out the door, slammed it shut behind and made sure it locked. She could feel Ship's presence in her mind, monitoring everything.

_Any progress on transporting us out of here?_ she asked.

_My apologies, sweet Shea, but I am still unable to transport you from your current location. You are too far underground with too much interference. Chorack and his men are on their way to you now._

_Tell them to hurry. I expect company soon._

_They know, _Ship replied.

Shea stared at Spock in his half-dressed state, unconscious at her feet. He had aged considerably since she had seen him last, but he was still Spock. The thought of how close he had come to mating with her made her heart race again. She had considered the possibility that exposure to Spock's mind in the middle of Pon Farr could arouse her as well, but it had seemed remote. Obviously, she had dismissed the idea in error. She tugged his pants on, then forced herself to look away and concentrate on the exterior door to the prison cell corridor. She fingered the weapon in her hand preparing for whoever came through first. She didn't have to wait long.

The door flung open and a Romulan arm extended, pointing a disruptor down the corridor in her direction. Pressed low against the cell, she knew she hadn't been spotted yet, but there was no real cover. She took aim, waiting for a clear shot. Instead, the shot came from the far side of the door and the Romulan fell forward and hit the floor. More firing, then Chorack and his men burst in.

"We're clear!" he yelled when he saw her standing there with her weapon lowered. Then he focused on the half-naked Spock laid out flat.

"We'll have to carry him," Shea said.

Chorack nodded and signaled to one of his men, who lifted Spock and balanced him over a shoulder. "We must hurry. More will come," Chorack said and Shea followed him out.

Since she had been brought in wearing a blindfold, she relied on Chorack's lead as they ran through a maze of corridors and stairwells. Three levels up, she heard Ship's voice in her mind. _ We have a fix on you now._

"Hold position," Shea called out. "Prepare to transport."

They froze in place and Ship's transporter beams took hold. When her vision cleared again, Picard stood in front of them.

"Everyone all right?" he asked. They each nodded in affirmation. "Well done." He tapped his comm link. "Take us out of here, Data. Pick up Sakonna, then set course for the rendezvous point. We don't want to keep them waiting." His attention went to Spock's limp partially clothed body slung over the Klingon security guard's shoulder. "Get the Ambassador to Sickbay," he ordered, then dismissed the rest of the away team. Shea saw him focusing on her torn clothes. "It seems you were correct about Spock's reaction to your mental invasion," he said. "Dr. Bashir will keep him sedated until we figure this out. You can head to Sickbay as well, assuming you're ready to dispense with those ears."

She self-consciously raised a hand to one pointed ear, having almost forgotten. Her hair still ached and with the rush of adrenaline fading, her attention focused on that discomfort again. She tore off the metal bands, letting her mane fall loose, instantly feeling better, even though the dye still masked her hair's sensory signals, as if she were wearing a dark veil over her head. She kept her eyes averted from Picard's, but as her gaze followed his body downward, she felt her pulse quicken and a sudden pull in her loins. She inhaled deeply to steady herself.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he asked, moving for a closer look.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, taking a quick step back. "I'll go get this disguise removed."

#

Picard watched as she hurried out the door. Something was amiss. Clearly, she was agitated. He debated for a moment whether to leave her alone or keep an eye on her. He missed their telepathic connection when he hadn't needed to guess so much as to what was going on with her. He told himself he shouldn't' be surprised that the encounter with Spock had upset her. She'd been reluctant from the beginning and now that her fears had been realized, no doubt guilt was setting in. Unless it was more than that. From what Ship had shown them of her interaction with Spock, it just might be. Picard hadn't forgotten Data's expressed concern and Dr. Bashir's uncertain response. Leaving her alone right now could be a very bad idea. He didn't want to pressure her, but he'd waited too long for there to be a misstep now. He decided to follow her to Sickbay. Checking on Spock's status would serve as a valid excuse.

When he entered Sickbay, he saw Shea laid out on one biobed and Spock on another. Dr. Bashir was attending to Spock, while one of his assistants worked on Shea. Picard pretended to ignore her and approached Bashir.

"So how is he?" he asked.

"Well into the throes of Pon Farr. Best not to wake him until we have a partner ready."

"Will any female do?"

"Good question."

"A Vulcan would be best," Shea said from across the room. The medical assistant working on her stepped away and Shea sat up, looking like herself again. She stared determinedly at the wall as she spoke. "Ask Sakonna to step in. She thinks highly of him."

"Very well," Picard answered. "We'll be picking up her shuttle soon. You can talk to her then."

"It might be better coming from you," she countered, still not looking at him.

Picard scowled at the idea of posing such a delicate and possibly offensive request to Sakonna. "Don't you think it would be more appropriate for you to broach this idea?"

"Sakonna resents my mental invasion and isn't interested in doing me any favors. So, no, you ask her. Just make sure she knows it's for Spock's benefit, not mine. In fact, tell her I'm eager for it, but Spock isn't. It might help persuade her if she thinks I'll be disappointed."

"Will you be?" he asked suspiciously, waiting for her to finally look at him.

"No," she said, a little too emphatically. "Of course not."

Picard observed that she still stared incongruously at the wall. She hopped off the table and left Sickbay abruptly. When the door slid shut behind her, Picard turned back to Bashir.

"Check her readouts. I want to know her status."

Bashir nodded and walked over to the biobed where Shea had just been treated to scan the recorded vital signs. When he turned back gain, he wore a big grin. "Hormone levels off the charts. Looks like the Ambassador has done us all a huge favor."

Picard didn't smile back. "Why is she in denial?"

The doctor's grin faded just a fraction. "I'm not sure. It's not like her to hold back. I'm surprised she hasn't jumped you already… or me, for that matter."

Picard frowned sternly at him and the doctor's grin went away completely. Bashir kept his expression suitably respectful until Captain Picard left, then the smile returned.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Patience Rewarded

"Ship, pinpoint Shea's location," Picard requested.

"Shea is seated at the helm station navigating on manual control."

"Manual? Is there a problem with your auto controls?"

"No, my Captain."

"What the hell is she up to?'' he mumbled under this breath, and headed for the Bridge. When he entered he saw Data in the command chair, his face carefully expressionless. Shea was seated exactly where Ship had said, her back to him with her hands moving rapidly over the helm controls. Flying a starship on manual was a focus intensive endeavor to be undertaken only in emergency situations.

"Status report," Picard requested.

Data replied, "All systems fully operational. We are on route to rendezvous with Sakonna's shuttle. Arrival estimated in eleven minutes, thirty-one seconds."

"That's considerably ahead of schedule," Picard noted.

"Yes, sir. Shea has increased our speed to Warp 8."

"Has she now? And running us on manual too, I see. Why is that?"

Data opened his mouth, then closed it again and merely shrugged.

Picard lowered himself into his Captain's chair and stared at the back of her head. She never looked up from the control panel until upon reaching the designated coordinates, she abruptly spun them into a docking maneuver and opened the bay doors for Sakonna's shuttle to come aboard. She slapped the auto controls back on and stood away. "I'm going for a swim in the Holodeck," she announced and headed for the exit without making eye contact with anyone.

"A swim?" Picard asked in amazement. "Now?"

"Now," she confirmed. "Talk to Sakonna."

The exit door closed behind her.

"That sounded very much like an order," Picard observed.

"Yes, sir," Data agreed.

Picard rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He then tapped his comm badge. "Captain Picard to Sakonna. What is your status?"

"I'm just disembarking now, Captain," she replied.

"Very good. Report to Sickbay."

"Sickbay? I'm not injured. I am in excellent health."

"Good to know. I'll meet you there." Picard looked at Data. "You have the Bridge, Number One. In fact, you may have it for awhile."

Data regarded him curiously, but Picard provided nothing more. He wasn't sure enough about what might or might not happen next to explain further. He left the Bridge, walking down the corridors to Sickbay. Sakonna had beat him there and stood waiting with a mildly puzzled look on her face. Nearby, Dr. Bashir stood next to Spock's unconscious form monitoring his vital signs.

"Welcome back," Picard said to her. "You did well."

"Thank you, Captain."

"We do have one problem, however, as you may have noticed," he said, looking over at Spock.

"He's not actually in Pon Farr?" she asked skeptically.

"Yes, actually. That's exactly what he's in. And we don't dare revive him until we have located a willing partner."

"So where is Shea? She started this. She should finish it."

Picard nodded and sighed. "Perhaps, under normal circumstances. However, Spock has made it clear that he wants nothing to do with her. The only thing he'd find more objectionable than her having put him into this state, would be her participation in taking him out of it. I hate to insult him further. It would be far preferable to find someone… more respectful of his wishes."

Sakonna stared back at him. "Are you suggesting that I volunteer?"

"I wouldn't be so bold. I'm merely explaining the situation. What you choose to do about it, is completely up to you. No doubt Shea will be disappointed should her services prove unneeded, so I would certainly understand if you should choose to walk away," he concluded, intentionally throwing down the gauntlet. He supposed he should be ashamed of himself for such blatant manipulation. He waited to see if it would work.

Sakonna looked away from him and regarded Spock. "He is a great man. He deserves to be with someone who would treat him with the courtesy and deference he is due."

"Yes, he does," Picard agreed.

"I shall attend to him," she said.

"Doctor, I think you can safely bring Spock out of his induced coma. Then I suggest you give them some privacy."

Bashir nodded and Picard left them to it.

_The Holodeck. A swim in the Holodeck. That's what she'd said. Which one?_

"Ship, where is Shea now?"

"Shea is in Holodeck Two."

He walked as fast as he could without actually breaking stride unseemly. He was slightly out of breath when he reached the outer door, due more to anticipation then exertion. He hoped he wasn't getting himself worked up for nothing. Upon entering he found himself standing on sand, looking at a familiar scene - a pink and purple sunset reflected in a turquoise colored ocean. To his left were a series of floating cabanas. If he remembered right, the one he wanted was number forty-one. This was Risa, the tropical planet where they had vacationed together. It was here that they shared a few days of bliss before the outside world had come crashing in on them - the closest thing he had ever experienced to a honeymoon.

No longer worried about appearances, he broke into a run, sprinting for the cabanas. He soon spotted the one that had been theirs and rushed in expecting to find her waiting for him. The white covered bed lay empty. He spun round looking for her, then hurried out the back to the private balcony overlooking the sea. She wasn't there either. Just the two lounge chairs, and table he remembered. He saw the same silly romance novel lying on it that he had teased her about.

_Damn it, where is she? _He stared out at the sparkling ocean, watching the waves roll in, one after the other. _She has to be out there. Patience_, he admonished himself. _She'll show when she's ready._ Almost immediately her head popped through the water before him.

"Hi," she said, looking up at him. "How do you like the sunset?"

"Lovely."

"Manufactured, of course."

"Will you get the hell up here?" he said and extended a hand to her. She grabbed hold and he pulled her up into his arms. She was naked and dripping, soaking his uniform. He didn't care. What mattered was that she wasn't pulling away from his embrace, that she was making eye contact.

"Oh my…," he said realizing the moment he'd waited for was finally here. "I've missed you so much."

"I've been here the whole time."

"Yes, and no. Not the way I needed you to be."

"I know," she admitted and put her lips to his.

The kiss began gently, then his hunger for her took over. He realized he needn't hold back as she responded to him in equal measure. He pulled her with him to the bed and lay her down upon it. He backed away and tugged off his uniform as she watched and smiled. He moved from her ankles upward kissing her wet skin, tasting the salt water mixed with the sweet flavor of her. He paused at the inverted triangle where her thighs met, enjoying her moans of pleasure, but his own need soon forced him to move upward. He poised over her, eager with anticipation, but when he saw her closed eyes and the tension in her face, he hesitated.

"This isn't going to be painful, is it? I don't want to hurt you."

She opened her eyes to look into his. "Are you sure about that?"

As he returned that green-eyed stare, he remembered all those nights she'd slept near him, displaying herself just out of reach, torturing him with seeming intention. He felt his sexual need turn aggressive with the wish to punish her for every one of those nights when he had lain next to her in a sweat of unanswered desire. For the briefest moment he entertained the idea of tearing into her with abandon whatever pain for her resulted, but the need for revenge passed as quickly as it had come. That wasn't at all what he wanted. He wanted love, he wanted tenderness, and the soul deep connection with her that he had been missing all this time.

"Of course, I'm sure," he said, releasing the last of his resentment and frustration.

"Then go slow," she told him, and he did, very slowly and very gently, and it was fine, better than fine. It was wonderful.

#

Upon reaching the designated rendezvous point, Data opened a communication channel on the viewscreen.

"Greetings, Captain Riker," he said. "It is… It's good to see you again."

Riker smiled in surprise. "_It's_, Data?"

"Yes, sir. I am, that is, I'm experimenting with the use of contractions. I find that changing my habit of speech has proved more challenging than anticipated. However, I believe the effort is warranted. People have informed me that my manner of speech is somewhat stilted. I desire that it be perceived as more relaxed and conversational in nature."

Riker nodded. "Well, good luck with that. So, is the Ambassador safely aboard?"

"Yes, sir."

"Great. If he's ready to transport over, we're ready to receive him."

"Actually, there will be a delay. Ambassador Spock is currently otherwise occupied."

"Occupied how?"

"My apologies, Captain, but I am… I'm not at liberty to discuss the nature of his activities."

Riker exhaled in annoyance. "All right then, let's schedule the debriefings while we're waiting. I can take Captain Picard's report, then meet with the away team."

"Captain Picard is also currently unavailable to meet with you."

"Unavailable? What's he up to?"

"Again, my apologies. I am not," Data paused and a look of annoyance crossed his features, "I'm not at liberty to discuss the nature of his activities."

Riker stared at him for a moment. "It's not like this rendezvous should be taking anyone by surprise."

"No, sir. We planned to meet you here at this time. The rendezvous is not, _isn't_ the element that has taken us by surprise."

"So what has taken you by surprise?"

"Again, I'm not at liberty to discuss that."

"Fine. I'll meet with the away team first then."

"You can meet with Chorack and his men now, if you so choose. The remaining two members of the away team are currently otherwise occupied."

"I suppose you can't tell me what they're doing either."

"No, sir."

"Just how long is it going to be before we can meet with everyone?"

"Uncertain. I will let you know as soon as I have that information available."

Riker frowned at him. "Commander Troi and I will transport over to you. Have Chorack, and anyone else from the away team who isn't 'otherwise occupied,' meet us in your conference room."

"I will summon them for you," Data replied and ended the transmission. "Ship, please direct Captain Riker and Commander Troi to the conference room and alert the available away team members to report to him there."

"Acknowledged," Ship said. "Should I tell Captain Riker what's going on in Sickbay and Holodeck Two?"

"No, Ship. You should not. The involved parties would not appreciate your discussing the nature of their personal activities with Captain Riker."

"Okay," Ship replied, sounding disappointed. "Would you like to discuss it?"

Data considered the question. "Yes," he admitted, "but I believe that too would be inappropriate."

Ship made a sad sound. "It's no fun knowing things when you can't talk about them."

"Your proclivity for gossip is not one of your more admirable traits, especially since you are privy to a great deal of private information," Data stated. "I suggest you work on that."

Ship made a disrespectful raspberry noise. Data noted it and decided he should discuss Ship's attitude with Shea, once she was available again. He wondered how long she and Captain Picard would remain secluded. On each occasion the process of bonding had seemed to require less time. According to the recordings by the Guardian of Forever, when Shea and the Captain first met in the past, their bonding had taken place sporadically, stretched over a period of ten days. Their subsequent reconnection almost a hundred years later had occasioned thirty-six hours of uninterrupted contact. Upon their reunion following a later separation of just nine years, they had secluded themselves for a mere three hours initially. Of course, Shea had been fully mature then, whereas now this new body of hers was just entering puberty. He could not decide whether on this occasion the bonding require more time or less. Biological processes were not readily calculable. He would have consulted Dr. Bashir, but Data knew the doctor was currently intent on gathering information and thus also unavailable for discussion. Data recognized he had no right to know the details, but he supposed he could ask Ship for an opinion.

"Ship, are you able to estimate when the Captain and Shea will be ready to exit the holodeck?"

"So it's okay for me to talk about this?"

"Just a time estimate please."

"Difficult to pinpoint. Doesn't look like they're coming up for air anytime soon. You should see how wrapped up they are in each other. You could probably march a parade past them and they wouldn't notice. As a matter of fact, right now he's-"

"Thank you, Ship. I require no additional information, nor should you provide any. To anyone."

"Sometimes, you can be a real wet blanket."

Data searched his internal slang dictionary, then recognized the nature of Ship's insult - another example of Ship's recent disrespectful behavior.

When Captain Riker and Counselor Troi transported aboard, Ship greeted them cheerily. "Hi, Will! Hi, Deanna! Great to see you guys."

Riker rolled his eyes and Deanna suppressed a laugh. "Hello, Ship," she answered, "or would you prefer we call you, Redemption, now?"

"Nah. That's for strangers, not old friends. Pretty cool name, though, don't you think? I picked it myself."

"Yeah," Riker said, "it's great."

Deanna frowned at his sarcastic tone and mouthed, _be nice_, at him.

"You know I can see you guys, right?" Ship reminded them.

"Sorry," Riker said. "It's a nice name. Really. So we're supposed to go to your conference room."

"Right you are. Follow the yellow brick road."

A path of bright yellow rectangles appeared on the floor leading away from them. Riker barely prevented himself from rolling his eyes again. "Thank you," he said and started along the path.

It led around several corridors, then down a new one he didn't remember to a pair of doors that opened upon their approach. Inside, the room held a long stone grey table with padded black swivel chairs surrounding it. Long oval shaped windows lined the wall revealing a star studded view. The interior walls and ceiling were lit from within by softly glowing ever changing tones of color swirling and morphing into each other in random three dimensional shapes. The effect was rather hypnotic… at first.

"Very nice," Deanna said, looking around.

"I'm glad you like it," Ship said. "This is my tribute to Shea's place of origin, a user friendly interpretation of the original. It gives you some idea of how she sees it."

"This is what the Chaos looks like to her?" Riker asked in surprise.

"Sort of. It's more symbolic than representational."

Deanna watched the undulating walls then shook her head as if trying to clear it. "It's beautiful, but a little disorienting."

"True. I usually freeze the motion during conference meetings for that very reason. Would you like me to do that now?"

"Please," Riker requested and the walls became solid. He felt relieved as his stomach settled. Deanna nodded to him in agreement.

"Chorack is on his way," Ship informed them. "Can I get you anything while you're waiting? Coffee, tea, a glass of wine?"

"No. Thank you. We're fine," Riker replied, wishing Ship would leave them be, but unsure how to express that. He was very glad the Enterprise was merely a highly sophisticated machine with no sentient personality to deal with.

The outer door buzzed. "Enter," Riker called out.

Chorack walked in. "Reporting for debriefing," he stated gruffly.

Riker nodded at the Klingon who stood a half-head taller than he and dwarfed him in muscle mass. Chorack wore the traditional long braids of a Klingon warrior, along with woven metal and leather cross sashes which Riker knew contained concealed weapons. A blaster hung on his hip. He probably slept with it. Riker sat down and waved Chorack to do the same. Riker pulled the small recorder from his pocket, set it on the table between them and activated it.

"You know the drill," Riker prompted.

Chorack nodded and began. "Chorack, Chief of Security of the Ship Redemption. I led an away team of five Klingon security guards to the planet Romulus as part of a mission to secure the release of Ambassador Spock from his captors…" Chorack went on to provide the details of the underground structure, identities of the terrorists, opposition encountered, body count, etc. Riker and Troi listened as Chorack's report was being recorded.

"You said the Ambassador was unconscious when you retrieved him," Riker noted when Chorack finished. "What was the cause of that?"

"You should consult with Dr. Bashir. The Ambassador is under his care," Chorack replied curtly.

"Is there anything else you would like to add?"

Chorack stared at Riker in silence as if the question were completely ridiculous. At that point, Riker realized he wasn't getting anything more out of Chorack and dismissed him. Each of the Klingon away team members entered one-by-one and reported stories mirroring Chorack's, except for minor variations due to personal perspective and physical encounters. Riker had hoped the guard who had muscled Spock's unconscious body out of the prison might offer more insight, but he merely shrugged.

"I was ordered to carry him and I did. He did not wake. That is all I know."

When the last of the guards left, Ship reported that none of the other people involved in the mission were yet available for their debriefings, and even Dr. Bashir was otherwise occupied. Riker sighed in annoyance.

"Why do I have the feeling we're purposely being kept in the dark?"

"I'm sensing some very strong emotions," Deanna said, feeling a little warm beneath her uniform.

Ship snickered in response.

"I take it you know exactly what's going on, Ship," Riker said.

"Of course, I know. I know everything that happens around here," Ship replied. "But don't bother asking me. I'm not supposed to talk about it. Data said so."

Deanna recognized the sound of someone dying to tell a secret. "Okay, we won't ask you then. That would be rude. But maybe we could play a game." She gave Will a sly smile in response to his puzzled scowl.

"A game?" Ship asked. "I love games. What kind of game?"

"A guessing game. We guess and you tell us if we're getting warmer or colder depending how close we come to the truth."

"I know that game. Children play it, don't they?"

"Yes, they do. Would you like to play?"

"You're not going to get me into trouble, are you?"

Riker and Deanna exchanged looks. He nodded to go ahead.

"You're not going to tell us any secrets, Ship, just if we're getting warmer," Deanna said. "We understand that there are two people from the away team currently unavailable for debriefing. We've also been told that Captain Picard is unavailable and that Ambassador Spock is unavailable. So I'm going to guess that they're together somewhere on board. Am I warm?"

"Not really."

Deanna tried again. "Okay, then I'm going to guess that they are together in pairs at separate locations on board. Am I warmer now?"

"You are."

"I'm guessing that Shea is in one of those pairs."

"Warmer still."

Deanna smiled knowingly at her husband. "And I'm guessing that she's with Captain Picard and they're having a wonderful time with their clothes off. How warm am I now?"

"Red hot."

Riker raised his eyebrows. "So she's ahead of schedule. I take it that's the element Data mentioned that has taken you all by surprise."

"Bingo!" Ship said. "Oh wait. Wrong game. Did I mess up?"

"No, Ship. You're doing great," Deanna said.

"So what about Ambassador Spock?" Riker asked. "None of this explains why he was unconscious, or what he's doing now."

"Was that a guess? Are you still playing? Because if that's your guess, you're ice cold," Ship told him.

"Are you saying that Shea's sexual awakening has affected Spock?" Deanna asked.

"I'm not saying anything," Ship replied.

The image of the elder statesman in a state of sexual arousal seemed so out of character, Riker didn't even want to think about it. "Maybe we should stop playing," he said.

"But this is just getting fun," Ship protested. "There's lots more to guess."

"I bet. It might be better if we returned to the Enterprise and waited there," Riker ventured.

"No, please don't go," Ship pleaded. "You just got here. How about a tour of my new features since you were here last? I've made lots of changes. Captain Picard has a new Ready Room now. And I've got two new holodecks and a cartography department. Or maybe you'd like to relax in my recreation lounge while you're waiting. Scotty is there right now. You could talk to him. And there's a terrific new jazz piano, Will. You like jazz, don't you?"

"Any piano is a jazz piano," Riker said.

"Not like this one. Shea specially designed it. She's says it's super hot."

"She does, huh?" Riker smiled at the description and his resistance to staying longer began to melt. "I guess we could go check it out. You have another brick road for us to follow?"

"You bet," Ship replied and lit yellow rectangles immediately appeared on the floor again. This time, they flashed randomly like twinkling stars.

"Shall we go find the wizard?" Riker asked Deanna, making her laugh. He offered her his arm and they followed the path.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Intimate Connections 

In Sickbay, Ambassador Spock found himself formally thanking a Vulcan woman he had never met before, for attending to him in his moment of need. His embarrassment was deeply painful, but he covered his emotions coolly, revealing none of the shame he felt remembering how he had ravished her like a maddened animal only minutes before. Nor did he reveal the even stronger emotions of rage and hurt he felt at Shea's behavior. She had not only instigated Pon Farr in him, but had then left him in the hands of a stranger to satisfy it. The Vulcan woman departed momentarily then returned to him with clothing fit for an ambassador.

"Is there anything else you require, Ambassador Spock?" she asked.

"No, nothing. I must thank you again." He wanted to say her name, knowing it would be a courtesy, but it escaped him. Perhaps she had never mentioned it. The details of their passionate interaction were not entirely clear in his mind. He recognized that she was an attractive female and far younger than he, which only added to his discomfort. He desperately wanted her to leave, and hoped he would never cross paths with her again, but, of course, he said nothing of that and kept his facial expression strictly neutral. She nodded to him politely and exited the room, at last. Spock exhaled in relief, then dressed himself to wait for Dr. Bashir's return to approve his medical release.

As time passed and Dr. Bashir remained absent, Spock grew increasingly curious regarding the nature of his surroundings. He walked the room, examining it closely. He knew he was on a starship, but the material of its construction did not comport with anything with which he was familiar, and he was familiar with every material employed by the known races, or so he had thought. He ran the palm of his hand along a wall noting the smooth texture and warm temperature, seeing the surface color change softly under his hand as he did so. The way it responded to his touch was almost as if it were alive. _Perhaps it is_, it occurred to him. He had never encountered a living ship, but he had read of them. Stuff of legends mostly, hearsay and unsubstantiated tales. He placed both palms on the wall, wondering if he could test his theory telepathically, wondering if he should try.

"Ambassador? What are you doing?" a voice inquired.

Spock withdrew his hands and turned to look, searching for the source. He saw no one in the room and had not heard the door open. "Please identify yourself," he requested.

"I apologize for the late introduction, but it was unavoidable since clearly you were otherwise occupied. I am Ship, also known as the Redemption. Welcome aboard me, Ambassador Spock."

"You are not a computer," Spock surmised.

"No more than you - maybe less from what I hear. I am a sentient being, a living vessel."

"Fascinating," Spock said with a raised eyebrow.

"Thank you. I find you interesting as well. I have five Vulcan crew on board, but yours was the first Pon Farr I have witnessed. I noticed that Sakonna participated willingly, but she did not demonstrate the same degree of intensity that you did. Tell me, was this Pon Farr of yours typical for the male of your species?"

"This is a private matter," Spock stated firmly. "I do not wish to discuss it."

"Dang! You're no better than the rest of them. Nobody wants to talk to me about all the sex going on around here, and there's plenty of it, believe me. I thought a logical Vulcan would be more… logical."

Spock pondered why a starship would be intrigued by humanoid reproductive behavior. "I fail to see why this subject interests you."

"Because it's obviously so interesting to all of them. They're my charges, my friends, my caretakers. I make sure their needs are met, and they make sure mine are met in return. We enjoy a symbiotic relationship of mutual interest and dependency. I have observed sexual contact to be a biological imperative in humanoids. It only makes sense for me to try to understand it."

Spock nodded. "You have my sympathy then. I believe the reason they are unwilling to discuss the topic, is because it lies somewhere beyond their ability to explain it. I too find sexual behavior somewhat mysterious, even though it has been well documented, analyzed and written about ad nauseam. Surely you must have access to such studies and treatises."

"Yes, of course, but I wish they would talk to me about it. It's the secretiveness that gets to me. They all seem to be having so much fun, but if I mention it, they act like they have no idea what I'm talking about. It's the strangest thing."

"So no one will discuss this topic with you, not even your Chief Medical Officer?"

"Julian will talk about it theoretically, but not when it comes to his personal activities. The only one who ever would, was Shea, up to a point. But since her transition, she hasn't been sexually active, so there hasn't been much to talk about until today. I'm really hoping she'll talk to me about what's going on now."

"And what exactly would that be?" Spock inquired.

Ship paused. "I'm not supposed to talk about it. Data said so. I hope you're not offended. I had to tell Captain Riker and his wife the same thing. They managed to guess anyway, but not because I told them."

"Would that be Captain William T. Riker of the Enterprise?"

"The very one. He and Deanna are heading to my lounge area as we speak. They are waiting for the rest of the away team to be available so they can finish the debriefings. I'm sure they would like to meet with you as well."

"Intriguing. However, I was told to wait for Dr. Bashir before leaving your sickbay. Do you know where he is?"

"Yes, I do. And I wish I could tell you, but like I said, I'm not supposed to talk about it."

"Then perhaps I have waited long enough. I shall go to this lounge area and meet with Captain Riker. Please direct me."

"Happy to. Just follow the flaming red arrows."

Spock looked down to see a series of flashing arrows reminiscent of an ancient Vulcan tale he remembered from his childhood. The hero had followed a path of fiery arrows to the hall of an old god with a penchant for debauchery. Spock wondered if it was coincidence, then decided not. This living ship had a mischievous bent.

"Fascinating," he said again and followed the arrows.

He found Captain Riker and Commander Troi sitting in the lounge as expected, but to his surprise they were conversing with a man he well recognized but had not seen in nearly seventy years. It did not escape Spock's notice that he looked significantly more fit and youthful than the last time he had seen him.

"Mr. Spock, as I live and breathe," Scotty exclaimed and jumped to his feet. He barely restrained himself from grabbing Spock in a bear hug, and just pumped his hand instead. "It's good to see you."

"Mr. Scott, an unexpected pleasure," Spock acknowledged. "I had heard news of your time displacement experience, but lost track of your whereabouts. It appears you have adjusted."

"Aye, that I have. I confess it was a bit of a shock waking up to a changed universe, but I'm liking life here just fine now. Still, I have to say it does my old heart good to see a fellow officer from Kirk's crew. I think you and I are the only ones left who can truly appreciate just how remarkable that experience was."

"Indeed." Spock stared at Scotty intently, analyzing what he saw there. "I take it you are a crewmember here."

"Chief of Engineering. No more captaining for me. I'm back to what I love."

"Apparently the position suits you. You seem to be in remarkably excellent health for a man of your age."

"Aye." Scotty's smile shifted uncomfortably under Spock's scrutiny. "I don't suppose there's any reason to pretend not to know the cause of it. Shea's a remarkable woman as you well know."

Spock nodded but made no comment, then turned his attention to Scotty's companions. "Captain Riker, Commander. I understand you wished to see me."

"Yes," Riker replied. "Please join us, Ambassador."

Spock lowered himself into one of the empty chairs at their table, and waited for an explanation as to why these people had taken it upon themselves to lead an attack on his abductors and remove him from Romulus without his permission.

"I'm glad to see you weren't harmed during your captivity," Riker said. "We were concerned that you might be tortured for information."

"Your fear was unfounded. I was in no danger from my captors."

"Maybe not from them, but you were being hunted by the Tal Shiar. Our information was that they were closing in on your location. If they had gotten their hands on you…"

"Then my intent would have been fulfilled. You have thwarted years of planning on my part."

For a moment, Riker was lost for words. "You wanted them to arrest you?"

"Indeed."

"Ambassador, it's very unlikely that you would have survived," Deanna said.

Spock nodded. "I am aware."

"May we ask why you would take such a risk?" she inquired.

"You may ask. However, I choose not to answer."

"I hope you're not planning on returning to Romulus to try this stunt again," Riker said.

"Unfortunately, I believe the window of opportunity for the outcome I was seeking will have passed before I would be able to set up another plausible scenario."

Riker shook his head, "I'm not sure how to react to this. It's not often I find myself in a position of needing to apologize for saving someone's life."

"What is done is done. Although I am disappointed in the outcome, I recognize that your motives were well intentioned. I do, however, take exception to your methods."

"Our methods?" Riker frowned and sighed, wondering exactly what had occurred. "Your rescue was hired out to the persons running this ship. It was a black ops."

"Interesting. And who is in charge of this vessel?"

"That would be Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

Spock pursed his lips together and raised an eyebrow to learn that Captain Picard had taken such a dramatic turn in life. "I would like to speak with him."

"You're not the only one." Riker was already annoyed at being kept waiting and in light of Spock's comments, his impatience grew. He tilted back and spoke to the ceiling. "Ship! Tell Captain Picard, we need to talk to him. Now."

"I am happy to relay your request," Ship replied. "However, he still may not be ready to hear it just yet."

Riker sighed and shared a look with Deanna, who shrugged back.

"I'm sensing he's still otherwise occupied," she said.

"How long is this going to take?" Riker asked. No one offered a response.

"How about another drink while you're waiting?" Scotty suggested and waived to a bar server. "Seeing as it might be awhile, you might as well relax and enjoy yourselves. Some thing's just can't be rushed, nor should they be."

Spock listened to the exchange, comparing it to Ship's earlier comments about Shea's lack of sexual activity until now, and put the pieces together. His opinion of Captain Picard lowered another notch, and his resentment of the way he had been treated grew in proportion.

#

Picard was noticing a clicking sound and was beginning to find it distracting. He tried to ignore it as he kissed Shea pulling her into a new position, but he realized he had been hearing the sound for some time now. _What the hell is that_? He separated his lips from hers, and looked around the room. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but the clicking continued.

"It's just Julian. Don't worry," Shea told him and went back to kissing him. He pulled away again.

"What do you mean, it's Julian?"

"He's monitoring us. Now don't make a big deal about it. You know he needs to analyze my biology."

"Monitoring us?" Picard stood away, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

"Oh boy," Shea bemoaned as Picard stomped out the door.

"I can't believe this," Picard said when he saw Dr. Bashir sitting outside at a table filled with medical scanning equipment.

The doctor looked up at him with a startled expression. "You're not done, are you?"

"No, we're not," Shea answered standing just behind Picard, "but if you could stop that annoying clicking noise, it might help us concentrate." The doctor quickly turned off one of the sensors so that the clicking ended. Shea tugged Picard back inside and closed the door again.

"He's got a lot of nerve," Picard said hotly.

"Please, Jean-Luc, I need you to focus," she caught him in her steady emerald green gaze, and pulled him back to the bed. She kissed him till he was breathless, then ran her mouth and tongue down and over him, making him gasp as sweet electrical sensations sparked through him. These last few hours had brought euphoric physical intimacy, but neither of them would be satisfied until their minds entwined. With her young cloned body barely on the edge of puberty, Shea was working hard to make it happen again. As good as this felt now, it wasn't close to how much pleasure they would experience when their awareness combined. They were close to syncing - very close.

She moved her mouth up to his and fell onto her back, pulling him on top of her as she wrapped her legs around him. Their hard breathing matched each other's now, and their hearts drummed together. He was beginning to sense what she sensed. As his mind opened to hers, he experienced the delicious friction she felt as he filled her, the sensation of his chest sliding over hers, the warmth of his breath on her neck, the way he tasted in her mouth. She in turn felt what he felt: the smoothness of her skin under his hands, the flavor of her tongue playing against his, and best of all, the tight hot massage she provided him as he rocked rhythmically.

This oncoming climax would be the shared experience they'd been eager for, and they pushed each other towards it, until at last at the tipping point, they teetered together, prolonging the combined sweetness as long as they could, until finally they could hold on no longer and had to let themselves fall. They rode the wave downward, locked together, falling into a torrent of sensation reflecting endlessly in the mirrors of each others' minds. Gradually their intense spasms slowed and faded, then ceased altogether. Mutually spent, they lay wrapped in each other's embrace, too exhausted to move, too in love to even consider it, as close as two minds could possibly be, his in hers, hers in his.

He was aware of every nuance of her, feeling as if he wanted to stay entwined like this forever, but even as the thought fully formed, he grew restless and uncomfortable. He finally lifted himself and rolled free onto his back, letting the air circulating from the ceiling fan above cool him down. With his mind linked to hers, he felt her sigh in relief as the pressure of his weight came off and she too felt the breeze. He smiled at their mutual pleasure of lying apart again. Ironic, considering how much he had been hating it all this time.

_Did you enjoy torturing me all those nights?_ he asked teasingly in his mind, then immediately regretted the question as he felt her guilt and sadness, and recognized her behavior as a defensive reflex. Whenever he judged her harshly, he almost always repented later. This was no exception. He pulled her close again and filled his mind with love and tenderness and acceptance to make up for it. She returned his emotions gratefully and relaxed into him. Sharing her awareness, he felt peaceful and complete with no sense of loneliness or isolation left. He floated there with her, weightless and free without time or place, half-dreaming, until finally his body's need for sleep took hold.

When Picard drifted off, Shea shifted away and got up. She walked to the outer door, opened it and looked at Julian, who grinned up at her from his monitoring screens. She stepped outside and quietly closed the door behind her.

"Wow," he said. "That was quite a ride."

She shook her head at him. "You sure know how to irritate people. I suggest you pack up before he wakes. He was very annoyed with you."

"The price I pay for dedication to science and medicine," he replied. He stood and began putting his equipment away, then he paused and looked at her. "So, how are you doing?"

"I'm good," she replied, which, of course, didn't answer his real question. When he continued to stare at her, she frowned and looked away.

"Sorry. Bad timing," he acknowledged and averted his eyes.

"So is all this snooping supposed to help you solve my problem?"

"Yes, of course. Sometimes I think I'm close to figuring it all out, but then the nucleic structure breaks down again. It's so very complicated. Not that I'm giving up, mind you. Nor should you."

"All right. Thanks." She turned to go back inside.

"So I'll see you later?" he asked impulsively.

She hesitated for a second, clearly annoyed by the question, then closed the door between them without answering.

"Idiot," he scolded himself aloud, and finished packing.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - Time for Reckoning

The sound of someone repeatedly clearing their throat, pierced through the fog of Picard's dream. He opened his eyes just barely. Shea was cuddled up next to him asleep, so obviously she was not the source.

"Yes?" he asked still half-asleep.

"Excuse me, my Captain. I have been asked to relay a message. Captain Riker has inquired whether you are ready to meet with him. I think he is growing increasingly impatient waiting for you."

"Waiting? How long has he been waiting?"

"Two hours, forty-five minutes and twenty-two seconds…. so far."

It took a moment for the numbers to make sense to him, then Picard bolted upright, fully awake.

"Oh dear."

Picard wasn't used to being anything less than punctual and despised tardiness in others. A few minutes might be explained away, but nearly three hours?

"Tell him… tell him I'm on my way. And offer my sincere apology." He scrambled to his feet and headed for the shower. "Why didn't you alert me that we had arrived at the rendezvous point?"

"Apologies, my Captain. I did look for an appropriate moment to inform you, but the two of you seemed so preoccupied, it seemed rude to interrupt."

"All right, all right. Never mind." He paused for a moment. "You didn't tell him what we were doing, did you?"

"Data told me not to discuss it."

"Good. See that you don't." He jumped in the shower, and yelled out, "Shea, get up!"

He heard nothing in response, so he pushed her mentally. _Get up. Now. They're going to want to debrief you. We've kept them waiting far too long as it is_.

_Okay, okay. I'm up already. _

A moment later, she slipped into the shower with him. When he caught what she was thinking, he jumped out of the streaming water and grabbed a towel.

_They're waiting for us,_ he reminded her.

"Whatever you say," she replied aloud, then sent him a mental image that nearly made his knees buckle.

"Stop that," he said, trying to sound stern, but he couldn't quite keep a smile off his face.

She laughed softly in reply, and ran her hands over her body, letting him feel it.

"Stop!" he said again, a little desperately, and pulled on his uniform. "I need to be able to think straight. Let's get this meeting over with and try to maintain a little dignity in the process. After that, I will happily attend to your needs for however long as I am able."

She smiled again. "My, that's some offer. And so elegantly phrased. I can't wait to see how you will _attend to my needs_ and to find out just how _long_ you will be _able_."

He smiled at her making fun of him. "Let's just get through this meeting with our clothes on. Please."

"Sometimes, you're no fun at all," she replied. She put on her uniform and checked her reflection in the mirror and in his eyes. Neither view showed anything amiss. She felt his approval and in that, felt her own as well.

"Ship, end program," Picard ordered, "and tell me where we are meeting Captain Riker."

The balmy island environment vanished, leaving an empty grid lined room.

"Captain Riker is waiting in my recreation lounge."

"A bit informal. I suppose it was a more comfortable place to wait. We'll be there shortly."

He wanted her to move out the door without delay, so she did and he followed, thinking they should walk briskly. He hated being late to anything, no matter how much he enjoyed the cause. She felt it and walked faster, but she teased him one last time with a mental picture of exactly what she was looking forward to.

"Enough," he admonished her. She felt no humor from him anymore, so she dropped it and adopted a mindset as focused as his.

The first thing she saw when the doors to the recreation lounge opened was the back of Spock's head, and she stopped dead. The sight of him hit her like a wall as the circumstances leading to his being there returned in an unwelcome flash of memory. Why hadn't she given even a single thought to preparing for this moment? Stupid question. She knew the answer, of course. She had been completely taken over by her own needs. Should she be friendly, formal, stand-offish? Was he angry, amused, curious? No idea. She gathered her courage and started walking again, adopting a wait and see approach.

Riker saw Picard enter the room and met him half-way. Shea watched as the two men engaged in an animated conversation. She caught up to them.

"Problem?" she asked.

Picard nodded, wearing a deep frown, then headed for the table where Spock sat with Deanna and Scotty.

"Mr. Scott, if you'll excuse us."

Scotty immediately stood and walked away to another table.

Picard addressed Spock, "I had hoped you would welcome our intervention, Ambassador, however, Captain Riker informs me that is not the case."

"Indeed," Spock confirmed dispassionately. Spock's gaze shifted from Picard and focused on Shea in an unblinking stare. His expression remained placidly neutral revealing nothing, but then she saw it. That small twitch in his jaw, imperceptible to anyone who was not thoroughly familiar with him and looking for just that. He was seething with anger. Her own eyes narrowed defensively in response.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did we spoil your little plan, Spock?" she asked with heavy sarcasm.

His jaw twitched again. "I did not request assistance. You had no reason to interfere."

"No reason?" Picard asked, dumbfounded, "Not even to save your life?"

"Not even."

"Take it up with your friends in the Federation then," Shea told him. "They gave us the assignment."

"You did not have to accept it," he replied coolly. "I take exception to the fact that you did and most especially to the manner in which you carried it out."

Picard shared a quick glance with Shea, understanding exactly what Spock meant. "I take full responsibility," Picard said. "I saw no other way to locate you quickly enough to prevent the Tal Shiar from reaching you first. Their involvement was our primary concern."

"There is little point in continuing this discussion. The damage is done," Spock stated and turned away from them.

Picard scowled, uncertain as to exactly what the nature of that damage might be. Was it simply the injury to Spock's pride at being suddenly thrust into Pon Farr, or was it something more? He felt Shea sharing his same question. In his mind, he told her to back off and not pressure Spock further. Not surprisingly, she didn't listen.

She plunked herself into the chair next to Spock. "Why the hell would you want to kill yourself?" she demanded.

"I had no such intention," he replied without looking at her.

"Don't play the semantics game with me. You planned on the Tal Shiar doing it for you. I suppose you think it would further your cause."

"A likely scenario," he agreed.

"How can you believe you're worth more dead than alive? Your main focus was to teach them the ways of logic. Martyring yourself is not logical."

"You are the last person from whom I would accept a lecture on logic," he told her forcefully, no longer disguising his displeasure.

She was making some headway now and pressed harder. "Why do you want to die, Spock?"

"I will not discuss my motives with you."

"Spock, are you sick?" she asked softly, staring intently at him, trying to make him return her gaze. When he would not, she placed a hand gently on his arm. He threw it off.

"Don't," he told her, finally meeting her eyes.

In that moment, she felt her suspicion confirmed. "Is it the same as what your father had?"

He shifted his eyes away again without answering.

"Maybe I can help," she offered.

"You cannot help me. There is no cure for this."

"No medical one, perhaps. Let me try."

Spock shook his head. "I do not want our connection restored. You know my feelings on the matter."

"So death is preferable?"

"A purposeful one would have been. It is unfortunate that you have stolen that from me."

Shea wavered between feeling insulted and being concerned. She decided to play it cool and go with logic he would appreciate. "If that's your true desire, maybe we can put your plan back in motion. I'm sure we could still figure out a way to have the Tal Shiar capture and execute you. Something that seems plausible. Better yet, we could stage it ourselves in the Holodeck and give them the credit."

"You would kill me yourself?"

"If that's really what you want," she said.

"Wait a minute," Riker objected. "You're not executing Spock. That's not happening."

"Far better for me to do it, than to actually turn him over to the Tal Shiar. I won't torture him, though we'd have to make look like we had, of course. We know many of the Senate leaders are fed up with their secret police. Maybe Spock's on the right track here. His execution might be just the ticket to push things over the edge."

Spock nodded. "I am in agreement."

"Well, I'm not," Picard stated firmly. "I will not allow this."

Spock regarded him. "I understand your reticence, Captain. Intentionally ending my life may seem morally objectionable to you. However, I ask that you consider the alternative. Like my father, I have been diagnosed with Bendii Syndrome. It is incurable and terminal. I object to neither, however, I do object to losing my mind in the process. I have no wish to suffer the same ignoble end as my father. Since I am half-human, my decline will be even more rapid and dramatic. Losing control over one's emotions is deeply troubling and especially humiliating for a Vulcan. I have begun to notice the effects. I would choose the nature of my death while I am still able to do so."

Picard sighed heavily. "Choosing your own fate is your right, of course, but… Please reconsider this request. You are apparently still in the early stages of this illness. You have time. A preferable solution may yet present itself."

"Unlikely, Captain." Spock turned to Shea. "Set up this execution scenario you have in mind and review it with me. I want to make sure the staging is believable and will have the desired effect."

"No problem, but give a me a day or two. I'm having a personal growth spurt right now, so my concentration is a little off. I'm sure you understand. Meanwhile, we'll find quarters for you. Ship will set something up. You two have met, I assume?"

"I have conversed with your vessel. I had heard of living starships, however, this is my first encounter with one."

"Ship is very impressive. Feel free to ask her whatever you like. I'm sure she would love to educate you about her species."

"I certainly would," Ship confirmed. "Ask me anything."

"I look forward to it, but perhaps, first, you will show me to my quarters. I am somewhat fatigued."

"Of course," Ship replied. "Just follow me."

A narrow path of softly glowing red arrows appeared at Spock's feet.

"Your vessel has an interesting sense of humor," Spock noted, remembering how the old story had ended with the hero's self-sacrifice. "Excuse me," he said, then left them and followed the path.

Picard watched him go, then turned to Shea. "You're not actually going through with this?"

"We'll see. Guess it depends on what Spock decides he really wants. Whatever it is, I intend to give it to him."

"In a day or two. At least, you're providing him time to think about it."

"Yes," she agreed, then her voice and manner changed dramatically, as she turned her full attention on Picard again, "and for you and me to finish what we started. I'm not done with you, not by a long shot."

Picard saw that she was heating up again. He could also see Riker and Troi studying them with amused expressions on their faces. "Yes, well," he struggled to remain cool and collected. "I'm not sure this meeting has concluded." He looked at Riker. "Has it?"

"Oh I think all my questions just got answered," Riker replied. "We'll return to the Enterprise and wait to see what Spock decides. Make sure you don't do anything to him until I get approval," he warned.

"Oh great… death by committee," Shea said, irritably. "Confer all you like, but know that whatever is done will be decided by Spock. No one else. I don't care what the Federation thinks."

"You never do," he acknowledged. "Good thing you don't have the final say around here. You gave that to your captain and he does care what the Federation thinks."

"Don't push it, Will," Picard replied. "Let's just wait and see what happens."

Riker nodded. "Guess I'll have to. In the meantime, try to reason with him."

"I intend to," Picard replied.

"That means you have to actually find time to talk to him," Riker said, "Not be holed up in some love nest for next two days straight."

"That's offensive," Picard snapped.

"Come on. You were almost three hours late to this meeting. It's obvious what's going on."

Picard was about to deny everything, but saw the knowing looks on Will and Deanna's faces. "All right. I admit the timing couldn't be worse. I will do my best to fulfill _all_ my obligations." They looked at him doubtfully. "Cut me some slack, damn it."

Shea groaned in impatience. "Let's go, or I may forget discretion altogether. The floor here is starting to look really good."

"I'll be in touch," Picard told Riker then took Shea by the arm and left without delay.

Riker sat back down and shook his head. Deanna smiled. "We may not hear from them for awhile."

"Yeah, I got that. I don't need your empathic senses to figure that one out. What did you sense from Spock?"

Her smile went away. "Sadness and resignation. I don't think he wants to die, but he doesn't see an alternative. He's trying to make the best of a bad situation. He wants his death to mean something and he wants to maintain his dignity."

"Can't fault him for that. Damn shame though. You'd think some progress would have been made on this disease." He tapped his communicator badge. "Captain Riker to Dr. Crusher."

She responded after a moment. He brought her up to speed, ending with the question of whether there was anything she could do to help.

"After the way Sarek's illness affected people here, I spent quite a bit of time studying the disease. It's a very rare genetic disorder, and often skips generations, though clearly not always, as evidenced in Spock's case. There's still no cure that I know of, but there have been improvements recently on treatments that can minimize and delay the symptoms. You might want to confer with Dr. Bashir as long as you're over there. He's a bit of a wild card, and frankly, his aggressive approach can be a little frightening at times, but if you have a hopeless case, he might be your best bet."

"All right. Thanks for your input, Doctor."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - The Frailties of the Flesh -_Illness and Addiction

Will and Deanna hadn't needed help locating Ship's Sickbay. They'd been there before, but Ship had provided another yellow brick path for them anyway. Dr. Bashir was waiting within.

"Will, Deanna. Come in, come in. So how are you?"

"We're fine," Riker replied for them both. "So about Spock…"

"Yes, Ambassador Spock. Tragic. I'm glad he's revealed his condition. Let's me off the hook. Vulcans are so sensitive when it comes to the topic of exposed emotions. The way he's been self-medicating, I figured he was hiding it from everyone and too proud to ask for help."

"So can you help him?"

"Well, I've no doubt that if I put my mind to it, I could come up with something eventually, but Spock is well into it. He needs a miracle at this point. I'm just a physician. A hell of a good one, mind you… but still. It's a bit of long shot, but he could ask Shea to help him. She might buy him some time."

"He doesn't want that," Deanna said.

"Why the hell not? Who in his right mind would turn down a healing session with her?" Bashir asked.

"Maybe he's not in his right mind," Riker said.

"I don't think that's the case," Deanna replied. "He seems well cognizant of his condition and the choices he has."

"Maybe he's just scared of her," Riker theorized.

She nodded. "That might be closer to the truth. He did say that he did not want his connection with her restored. Perhaps he thinks the price is too high."

Riker nodded. "Yeah. I get that."

Bashir listened to their conversation, then joined in at the end. "Can't identify, personally. But I guess you do. I remember how defensive you were around her when we were all in that mess together. And you, Deanna… most of the time, it looked like you wanted to run a sword through her. Things were pretty rocky back there, but it seems you all finally kissed and made up. So, how did that happen exactly?"

"That's private," Riker told him firmly.

"Say no more." The doctor grinned at him. "Had to have been that last night of poignant farewells. We did ours right here," he said and patted the biobed. "Got it all recorded. And now I have all this new data to analyze… a full bonding, start to finish. Fascinating stuff. Did you know that we have Spock and his disease to thank for speeding up her internal clock? When she forced a telepathic connection with him, he wasn't able to put a damper on his emotions. Next thing you know he's in Pon Farr and Shea's hormones are raging."

"Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?" Riker asked.

"On Ship?" Julian sputtered a laugh. "Anyway, seems you two are part of her inner circle now, so what's the point? Better that we're all on the same page." He gestured at the activity on the monitor next to him. "Oh, will you look at that. I thought she and the Captain were done in the Holodeck this afternoon, but these read-outs tell me otherwise. Good thing I left a remote sensor on site."

"Can't you at least pretend to respect their privacy?"

"I'm very respectful. This voyeurism of mine is completely professional, I assure you. I'm trying to figure out how she works, why she's compulsively driven the way she is, and so incredibly successful at it. Much of her biology is still very mysterious. But I am learning."

"Then maybe you can give me an estimate of how long all of this is going to take."

"I can make an educated guess. Their bond is basically complete. It looks like they're just playing now, so it depends on how much strength he has left. He's definitely slowing down despite her efforts to re-energize him. I'd say end of the day, maybe a little sooner." Julian rubbed his hands together in enthusiasm, "And then, it shouldn't be long before she starts hunting again. I'd love to be her first target, of course, but chances are she'll go after Chorack, then Scotty, then me. Maybe if you like, she'll pay you two a visit. She seems to follow an order of preference."

"I'm starting to wonder who the predator is here," Riker said.

"Oh, my apologies. Sometimes, I forget my casual honesty can be off-putting. But to answer your question, Shea is definitely the predator. I'm just very willing and eager prey."

"And her physician."

"Precisely. It's my job to unravel her genetic puzzle. By the time, I'm done here, I intend to know enough to take her apart and put her back together again."

"I wonder how the individual who originally designed her is going to feel about that?"

Bashir exhaled audibly. "I wonder the same thing, believe me. But that's a risk we've all taken on, just by knowing her. He could show up at any time."

Riker knew he was right and there wasn't a damn thing any of them could do about it. Deanna put a hand on his shoulder, sensing his frustration.

"Let's get back on topic," she said. "We came here to discuss Ambassador Spock's condition. Do you have a prediction on how much time he has left?"

"Well, that's a multi-layered question," Bashir answered. "There's the time he has left for rational thinking, then the time he has left as his motor-skills degenerate to when he can no longer walk, or feed himself, or use the bathroom independently, or talk, or swallow, or breathe… you get my point. It's more like a long series of small deaths."

Deanna looked shocked. "That's horrible."

Julian nodded in agreement. "The only good thing about it, is that it's not particularly painful. Just humiliating as hell. Of course, toward the end, that too goes away when the mind can no longer process what's happening to it. I'm not a big advocate of euthanasia, but sometimes it does seem warranted."

"But you still think Shea might be able to help him," Deanna said.

"Possibly. I've seen her do some crazy stuff that blew me away. But it's hard to say. This is genetically based, not some invading microbe or virus she can kill. It's not simply a matter of speeding up his natural recuperative abilities to fight off an infection or knit together damaged flesh. His physiology is programmed to break down in this manner by its own genetic design. I don't know if his DNA is something she can fix. She certainly can't do it in herself."

"I wish Spock would let her try," Deanna said. "Maybe I should talk to him."

"It couldn't hurt," Riker agreed. "He looked awfully tired though. Why don't you come back in the morning and try talking with him then?"

Deanna agreed and they said their good-byes.

Julian watched them go, leaving him to return to his studies, watching the spikes and numbers on the monitor before him. He knew with a little thrill what each of them represented, and if he were absolutely honest with himself, he had to admit that he had been less than honest with Will and Deanna. His voyeurism might be completely necessary, but it wasn't completely professional. For a moment he thought he should feel ashamed of himself, but then he thought, naah… he was having way too much fun.

#

Shea stayed with Jean-Luc in their Holodeck created tropical paradise, prolonging their lovemaking as long as she could, until he finally fell asleep exhausted and she knew there was no waking him again. Understanding what was happening to her this time had given her a little more control over it. At least she was handling herself better than the first time around.

Back when she had felt the first sudden flood of hormones rush into her system, she'd been at Starfleet Academy, sitting in a lecture hall with over two hundred fellow classmates. Mildly bored, but listening politely as Professor Hallsworth droned on about subspace communications protocol, she'd been taking notes like everyone else, when she started feeling the room growing far too warm, and getting hotter by the second. No one else seemed bothered, but for her it grew so intolerable that she'd picked up her PADD and begun fanning herself with it. Her heart had raced, and the air felt thick in her lungs. A deep tugging sensation in her pelvis started slowly but soon grew so intense that she couldn't sit still anymore. She repeatedly crossed and uncrossed her legs, and shifted around in her chair, trying to find some relief. Not surprisingly, others began to notice her fidgeting and fanning. People were glancing in her direction. Rick Engstrom, the young male recruit who happened to be sitting next to her that day, leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Are you all right?" Next thing she knew, she was straddling him, with her tongue in his mouth and his clothes coming off. Poor Rick didn't know what hit him.

She was still sorry she had gotten him into so much trouble. It was shortly after that incident, that the Board Members of the Academy banned her from attending classes, labeling her as disruptive. She'd had a hard time arguing the point. She sat on the edge of the bed in the floating cabana, remembering the consequences… how it had nearly gotten her expelled, forever changed how people looked at her, and ruined relationships she had valued. She'd been struggling with her problem ever since, sometimes embracing it without apology, sometimes feeling deeply ashamed, but usually fluctuating somewhere in between… except for this past year.

The absence of her compulsive behavior had felt like a reprieve from a life-long sentence. It had been hard on Jean-Luc, of course, and confusing for her to live in the absence of such a powerful force in her life. But now it was back, in full flower. She had to deal with it once again, and so would everyone else. But she was doing better this time, wasn't she? After all she hadn't launched herself at anyone. She'd waited for an appropriate venue and restricted herself to one man… so far. As she watched him lying there dead to the world, she felt her body growing increasingly restless, and knew that this was going to be a repeat of the past despite her best intentions.

With Jean-Luc again her bonded partner, she supposed they could return to the bartered agreement they had lived with before, under which she had discreetly fulfilled her needs with the handful of men she had selected. She'd been careful to share Jean-Luc's bed each night, not to leave it until he slept unaware and to be back before he woke. She had always felt guilty whenever he discovered her gone, even though he knew full well about her visits with the men of his senior staff. It was clear that he hated the fact that she slept with other men, but he seldom mentioned it and never let his personal feelings affect his interactions with them. He didn't blame them and he didn't blame her. He thought of it as a disability that had to be managed, and loved her without judgment. That was the miracle of this man. She looked at him sleeping peacefully beside her and wanted nothing more than to cuddle up next to him and stay there. Unfortunately, her body had other plans and it was tugging hard on her to fulfill them.

God, how she hated D for designing her this way. His motivation was still a mystery to her. She suspected he had created her merely for his personal amusement, but her interactions with him were shrouded by an impenetrable blanket of forgetfulness, blocked from her conscious memory. This fact of her existence was deeply disturbing and so completely beyond her control, she simply chose to bury it. She refused to discuss D, and tried very hard not to think about him at all. Denial had worked for a long time, letting her function and enjoy the pleasures this life offered, until last year when it had all come to a head in a fight between D and the Q to possess the Chaotic energy she held within her. Of course, she hadn't wanted to align herself with either side and to her credit had found an avenue of escape that had allowed her to reclaim her humanity and her life here on Ship. At least for awhile.

She was under no illusion that the power struggle between D and the Q was over. The parties were sitting back for now, watching, and waiting no doubt. Who knew what they were waiting for, what would trigger another confrontation? She hoped that her reaching maturity had nothing to do with it, and wished desperately that they would leave her alone. But wishing and hoping were a waste of mental energy. She had a far more immediate need to address, and she felt as if she would explode if she didn't do something about it soon. Jean-Luc had done his best, but this need of hers was beyond any one man's ability to satisfy. She had hoped her dependency would lessen over time, but it had only grown worse over the years. Like any addict, she'd become increasingly tolerant to her drug of choice, needing more. But now she was young again, so maybe things would be better. Maybe once she got past this initial phase, her youthful body would settle down to something more manageable than before. She hoped so, because this feeling was intolerable.

_Damn it!_ she cursed, threw on her uniform and headed out the door. She slid her palm against Ship's wall as she walked through the corridors, linking up mentally, _Ship, tell Chorack I'm on my way to his quarters. I expect him to be there._

She didn't hurry but walked with long sure strides, focused on her goal. Julian thought she always went to Chorack first because he was her favorite. Julian couldn't have been more mistaken. She went to Chorack first so she could get it over with, like pulling a bad tooth. She respected Chorack and valued his skills as a warrior, but she didn't especially enjoy having sex with him. She had despised Klingons for most of her life and only recently learned to tolerate their presence. Intimacy with Chorack was a form of penitence and self-discipline. The penitence was for her past violence against his race. The self-discipline came with the struggle to maintain dominance while getting her needs met, all without injury to either party. If she lost the struggle, the discipline would be provided by Chorack and somebody would get hurt.

She felt him standing on the other side of his door waiting to pounce when she entered. _Here we go,_ she thought as the door slid open. He moved to grab her, but she feinted to the left, dropped and rolled out of his reach to find her feet again on the far side of the room. She watched the huge Klingon, noticing the deep breathing, the predatory stare. He growled deep in his throat and moved to circle her. If she were an equally aroused Klingon female, she would be throwing things at him by now, but she wasn't Klingon and she had no intention of playing the bizarre seduction game they found so romantic. She also had no interest in hearing him spout Klingon love poetry at her, intended to melt her heart and resistance. Nor, in lieu of that, would she allow him to overpower her and stake his claim. No, that's not how this would go. They would do this under her conditions. He rushed forward and took a swing at her. When she dodged him, he roared in frustration.

"Back off!" she snarled in reply. "You're not in charge here. I will not be seduced. I will not be conquered."

His roar lowered to a low rumbling aggression. "You will submit to me," he told her fiercely.

"I will not."

He rushed her again. This time she met him head-on, twisting at the very last to redirect his forward momentum. He flew sideways and crashed into a wall. He looked stunned for a fraction of a second then turned back, growling again.

"Did you think to change the rules?" she asked. "Did you think because this body is youthful, that you could take control of me? Think again. No more of your foolishness."

He continued to growl, and glare at her. She began to wonder what had occurred between them that last night when she had said her goodbyes. Had she submitted to him? It might explain why he was being so persistent now. He made several more attempts to ensnare her. He wasn't backing down and she feared how far he might be willing to go in his desire to challenge her. She couldn't let this continue.

"Don't push me any further, Chorack," she warned, then narrowed her eyes and let her claws extend, making it clear she was drawing the line. She had no wish to hurt him, but she could not let his challenge go unanswered and she would not submit. This could get very ugly, very fast. To her relief, he finally lowered his gaze and fell silent. She saw him take a deep breath and let the fight go out of him. Once again, he would accept her on her terms.

"That's better. Now take off your clothes," she ordered softly and retracted her claws. He nodded and began to undress. She felt her mouth go dry as she watched him hungrily, seeing him reveal his massive chest and hard muscled body. He was a giant even by Klingon standards with everything in proportion. He was also strong enough to tear apart any man she knew, but for her he would be a willing, eager and reasonably gentle partner, just so long as she stayed on top.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - Playing Poker

"So how come nobody will talk to me about what's going on with Shea and the men around here?" Ship asked. "You're a doctor. You're supposed to talk about stuff like this."

Bashir sighed at the petulant whine in Ship's voice, annoyed to be interrupted again from watching Shea's active readout. In between her activity he had also been reviewing the latest research on Bendii Syndrome and comparing it with Spock's records. "Ship, you've seen all of this before. She's simply re-establishing her prior relationships with us now that she's reached maturity."

"I get that. What I don't get is why she wants to, and why it varies with the individuals involved. And why nobody will discuss it."

"Maybe it's because you already see everything we do. Having to discuss the details with you afterwards is too much. It's embarrassing. You need to learn the meaning of discretion."

"I know the meaning. I just don't know the point. Observing is one thing, understanding is another. Besides, you're no one to lecture me. You've been watching too and gathering all kinds of data. Come on, share. I need more information."

"Do all of your kind harass their crews like this?" Julian asked testily. "It's like living with a stalker."

"That's a nasty thing to say," Ship replied.

"I notice you didn't answer my question."

"That's because I don't know any others of my kind. I wasn't part of a pod."

Julian paused, realizing he knew almost nothing about Ship personally and had no idea what a pod was. "That sounds kind of sad," he commented. "Was it?"

"Yes. It was, actually. I was. Until I met Shea."

Another voice interrupted. "That is a story I would be interested to hear."

Julian turned to see Ambassador Spock walking towards him. "Oh good, I've been wanting to talk to you, Ambassador."

"Yes. It occurred to me that if this vessel is run anything like a Federation starship, my leaving Sickbay before being released from your care, might result in a black mark on your record. So I have returned."

"Thanks. Not that I'm worried about any black marks. We're not quite that regimented around here. We do what works, not what regulations dictate."

"Interesting," Spock noted.

"It is that. 'Never a dull moment' has turned out to be one of our catch phrases," Bashir replied with a grin, which Spock did not return. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you. Clearly you haven't been receiving the best of care. It's no wonder you're rundown. Whoever prescribed this medication regimen you're on needs to have his license revoked and his head examined."

"That would be me," Spock replied evenly.

"Oh," Bashir said, momentarily taken aback. "In that case, I suggest you give up your career in medicine and try being an Ambassador."

"I will take your opinion under advisement."

"Good. I've revised your dosage levels, eliminated a couple of components and replaced them with others." Bashir brought out a box filled with hyposprays. "One injection twice daily, not three like you've been doing. Best administered on an empty stomach, first thing on awakening and just before retiring. Don't eat anything within thirty minutes afterwards to avoid nausea and promote absorption. I think you'll find you have more energy, and fewer aches and pains."

Spock appraised the contents of the box, noting the large number of hyposprays. "Thank you, Doctor. However, I do not believe I will be needing this many."

"Well, I wasn't sure when you'd get around to seeing a decent physician. Besides, it's really not so many. There's only enough there for three months. But if you're concerned about finding another doctor, I could extend it for a full year."

Spock looked at Dr. Bashir curiously. "I was informed that I had far less time available to me."

"Must have been that same quack that gave you that other prescription."

Spock appraised him skeptically. "How do I know you are a decent physician?"

"Shea recruited me because I'm the best there is. You can either accept her opinion now or wait till you try these hyposprays and come to the same conclusion yourself."

"He's humble too," Ship interjected.

"That is self-evident," Spock agreed dryly. He read the label on the side of one the hyposprays, reviewing the contents. "You may be correct that this combination will prove more effective. I was aware these drugs were recommended but they were unavailable on Romulus." He set the hypospray back. "I will use them."

"So you were willing to jeopardize your health rather than abandon this cause of yours."

"It is not my cause. The Romulans are the ones who are evolving. The cause is theirs. My role is merely to offer guidance along the path of their enlightenment."

"Hard to do if you lose your mind in the process," Bashir commented. "Where's the logic in that?"

"I find it unfortunate that humans clumsily attempt to use the concept of logic as a bludgeon when arguing their opinions."

"Way to avoid the question," Bashir congratulated him. "Not that it's any of my business."

"Agreed. It is not."

"No. Nor is it my business to know why you would turn down Shea's offer to try to heal you. Hard for me to see the logic in that choice either."

"Perhaps so, but I have no interest in educating you."

"Then I guess this conversation is over. Good luck to you, Ambassador."

"Live long and prosper," Spock replied with his hand raised and fingers parted. He gathered up the box of hyposprays and walked away.

"Hmmph…Vulcans," Bashir mumbled dismissively once Spock exited Sickbay. "I don't know why Shea would ever have found him attractive."

"He does seem a little stand-offish," Ship commented.

"A little? He makes Sakonna look downright cuddly in comparison, and she's full-blooded Vulcan. Maybe that's the problem. He's overcompensating." Just then, Bashir remembered who he was talking to. "That's confidential, Ship. Don't go telling people I said that."

"I understand. Thank you for sharing your thoughts."

#

Spock injected one of the hyposprays into his neck as soon as he returned to his quarters. He sat down and turned his attention inward to determine whether he could detect any difference in his sense of well-being. After several minutes, he decided that the continuous low-grade headache he had been living with for the past year had receded measurably. "Much improved," he acknowledged. Perhaps this Dr. Bashir knew what he was talking about, despite his unprofessional demeanor. Spock felt a moment of amusement, recognizing that Bashir reminded him of another annoying physician he had once known, Dr. Leonard McCoy, who had been equally full of himself.

Spock allowed his mind to recall those times when he had shared the Bridge of that Enterprise with his human friends. Seeing Shea and Scotty here alive together on this strange vessel was a bitter-sweet reminder of those losses. As he thought of his old friends taken away by time and events, a sentimental tear trickled down his cheek, reminding him also that he was no longer in full control of his emotions. Each day, it grew a little more difficult to maintain the shield of logic keeping them at bay. He hoped these new injections would help with that too.

A buzzing noise intruded on his thoughts and he wiped the tear away. "You may enter," he called out and stood to greet whoever was at his door. He wasn't particularly surprised to see that it was Counselor Troi, nor was he particularly pleased. He believed he knew the reason for her self-invited visit - to talk him into changing his mind.

She held up her hand in the standard Vulcan greeting, "Hello, Ambassador. May I come in and speak with you."

"Counselor," he acknowledged and stepped aside to allow her entry. When she turned to face him, he decided to be blunt. "You are welcome to speak with me. However, if it is your intent to dissuade me from participating in my own execution, you will be disappointed."

She smiled grimly. "Obviously, you are very perceptive. You are correct that my motive in coming here was to counsel you against it. If you had no other option, I could understand your wish to end this mental decline quickly, but you do have another choice. My hope was that you might be willing to explain why you won't give Shea a chance to help you."

"Your hope, Counselor, was that in the explaining I would suddenly have a revelation that my judgment was in error, and reverse my decision."

"Also true," Deanna sighed heavily "Does that mean you won't at least try to explain this to me?"

Spock regarded her for a moment, recognizing her sincere concern. He motioned for her to sit in one of the upholstered chairs and sat across from her.

"I have no wish to cause you distress, so I will attempt to explain." He pressed his fingers together thoughtfully in front of his chest. "As you know, I expected the Tal Shiar to arrest and execute me. In anticipation of that, I put my affairs in order. I own no property, and have distributed all my assets. I have shared my knowledge with others of a similar mindset who have agreed to carry on my unfinished projects. I am currently unmarried, and have no one dependent upon me. I have said my farewells. I am as prepared as any individual can be to take leave of this mode of existence. Perhaps Shea could push this disease back for some period of time, but for what purpose? Alive, I have not been able to break the hold the Tal Shiar has over the Romulan Senate, but perhaps in death I can. Think of the many lives that would be saved if their influence were diminished, the thousands of people each year who would not suffer at their hands, and the progress toward logic that could result if unhindered by fear of Tal Shiar reprisals. Such a significant accomplishment would give my death meaning."

"But you won't live to see it. You'll never know if you succeeded or failed."

"At minimum, my execution will result in controversy and push debate forward. Not fully succeeding does not equate with failure. Ultimately, it will be enough to know that I helped simply in making the attempt."

Deanna nodded, but felt less than satisfied. "Your explanation sounds logical and well-considered, but I'm still sensing there's something more to this. Something very personal between you and Shea. Some old unresolved feeling, resentment perhaps, that keeps you from even considering her offer."

Spock returned Deanna's gaze impassively, letting nothing reveal itself in his facial expression. "I assure you that my decision is based solely on logic."

"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you."

"Believe as you will, Counselor. My decision stands."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Deanna watched his deadpanned face closely, and decided on a new tactic. "Do you play poker, Ambassador? Maybe you'd like to join our regular game tonight on the Enterprise. I'm betting you would be really good at it."

A single eyebrow raised on Spock's face. "An interesting proposal. The question is what would I play with? As I said, I have given away all my assets."

She smiled in response. "I'd be willing to stake you, just to see you play. Our game starts at twenty-one hundred in the officers' lounge on deck four."

"I look forward to it then," Spock said.

Deanna returned to the Enterprise and told her husband how her discussion with Spock had gone.

"It's too bad he's so stuck on this idea of his," Riker said. "I was hoping he would listen to reason. You're usually pretty good at making people come to their senses."

"I haven't given up. That's why I invited him to poker tonight. I'm also inviting Data. I think his presence could be helpful."

Riker smiled at the prospect of sitting down with Data and Spock at the same table. "Well, it should make for an interesting game, at any rate."

He and Deanna made sure they were in the officers' lounge ahead of schedule. Dr. Crusher, Worf and Geordi showed up a few minutes early as well, eager to see Data, but a little uncertain about having Ambassador Spock join them. Data and Spock arrived exactly on time and took the chairs saved for them. Spock noted the stack of credit chips set before him and nodded to Deanna who smiled back in response. Data placed a stack of his own on the table in front of him, donned his dealer visor, and produced two new decks of cards, which he proceeded to unwrap and shuffle in a blur of motion. He looked around the room at everyone and smiled.

"You look happy, Data," Deanna said.

"I am happy. Very. This brings back many pleasant memories," Data said as he continued to smile and shuffle the cards in a whip of fans and arcs without ever looking at his hands.

"You are amazingly skillful at that," Spock noted.

Data followed Spock's gaze down to his own hands. "Ah. Yes. Shuffling cards is a subroutine I created. I am not really conscious of the activity as it is accomplished." He stopped shuffling and offered the stack to Spock. "Would you care to make the cut, Ambassador?" Spock divided them evenly and precisely in response.

"Do you ever play poker on Ship?" Riker asked.

"Oh yes," Data replied. "Five card stud, nothing wild," he announced and began dealing the cards. "We have regular poker nights. Dr. Bashir, Chorack and Mr. Scott are formidable opponents."

"Does Captain Picard ever join you?" Deanna asked.

"Periodically. More so in recent months. I believe he was using poker as an excuse to avoid Shea's company," Data stated.

Riker chuckled at that as he gathered his cards. "I guess living with a pre-pubescent version of her would take some getting used to."

Data nodded, "Yes. Her sense of humor has been noticeably juvenile in its nature. Just last week, she set up a booby trap on the Bridge to be triggered by the magic word as she put it. As we approached a nearby moon, the Captain mentioned that it contained water." Data's lips curled upward at the memory.

Beverly looked shocked. "Oh, Data. You didn't laugh, did you?"

"I'm afraid so. Seeing Captain Picard's facial expression when a cascade opened over his head, triggered my humor response. He received a full drenching and I engaged in what you would call uncontrolled hysterical laughter for a period of fourteen seconds. As I recall, Captain Picard chose to join our poker game that night and stayed late into the evening."

"I take it Shea doesn't play then," Riker said, after sharing smiles all around.

"No, she does not. To do so, would be patently unfair. We might as well give her all our chips at the start and be done with it."

"In other words, the woman cheats," Worf stated.

"If knowing where every card is located is cheating, then yes, she cheats," Data agreed, still smiling.

"She cheats on a lot of things," Geordi commented.

Data's smile vanished. "Geordi, I understand the sexual reference and disparaging tone of voice. Please note that I do not approve. I consider you to be a good friend, but I will not tolerate disrespectful comments from you."

Geordi exhaled audibly. "Sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you should not," Data agreed. "Especially in light of the fact that you considered joining our crew for the very reason which you now disparage. If it were not for the fact that she unexpectedly became asexual, you would have been on Ship begging for her attention with the rest of us."

"Okay, okay. I said I was sorry. Can we not talk about any of that?" Geordi flushed a deep crimson under his dark skin.

"I'm finished, if you are," Data replied.

Deanna smiled as she listened to the exchange and secretly watched Spock's reaction.

"You used a contraction, Data," Beverly noted, hoping to change the subject to something safer.

"Yes, I'm working on that," Data replied. "The 'I am' contraction is easiest for me."

"Since we were discussing Shea," Riker steered the conversation back to where he knew Deanna wanted it. "How is she doing? And remember, I'm only asking out of concern for her welfare and with the utmost respect."

Data regarded him closely, and finally nodded. "I believe she is adapting. She seems to be exercising greater control over entering puberty on this occasion. Unlike her experience when she was at Starfleet Academy."

Riker nodded. "Yeah. I understand that was kind of rough on her. Weren't you teaching at the Academy back then, Ambassador?"

Spock hesitated before answering. "Yes," he said at last without elaboration.

"The Ambassador ran the Academy training missions at the time," Data explained. "Due to his prior acquaintance with Shea and the fact that she had been accepted into the program based upon his recommendation along with Captain Kirk's, he was called upon for assistance and consultation when Shea had her difficulties."

"Oh, then clearly you understand Shea's challenges better than most," Riker acknowledged with a nod to Spock.

Spock regarded Riker, "Are we here to play poker, Captain, or to delve into my personal history?"

"Oh, poker, definitely poker," Riker replied. "I call your bet and raise ten. Didn't mean to pry. It's just that we're all kind of wrapped up in this transition of hers and what it could mean, maybe for all of us."

"Call," Data said, and placed another ten chips into the pile. "The possible consequences are worrisome. I have begun monitoring again."

"I trust you'll keep us informed," Riker said.

"Affirmative," Data replied.

His curiosity piqued, Spock had to ask. "What is it that you are monitoring, Mr. Data?"

"The time spatial distortions which indicate that D has taken Shea from this plane of existence and then returned her."

Spock froze in place, his attention fully focused. "Who or what is D?"

Data regarded him curiously, "This information is unfamiliar to you?"

"It is. Please explain."

"D is the one who created her and left her for Captain Kirk and yourself to find. D is the predecessor of an omnipotent race of beings known as the Q Continuum. D normally appears to us in male human form and calls himself Derek Jacobs. I believe you were acquainted with him in that form, were you not?"

"I was," Spock said calmly, but felt flooded with a combination of disbelief and alarm. "Do you know where he takes her and why?"

"Where he takes her is unknown," Data said. "As to why, we can only speculate. Based on his comments and behavior in our presence, we suspect it is for purposes of personal amusement and gratification."

Spock required a moment to let that statement sink in. "I take it that she refuses to share her actual experience with you?"

"No, sir. She does not share it because she does not remember it."

Spock scowled, forgetting to place his bet. He turned to Riker. "You said this transition of hers could mean something for all of you. To what exactly were you referring?"

"D's return and with it, his power struggle with the Q. We just barely avoided a full out war between them after Q dumped us all on a demon-infested planet last year. That was an interesting experience to say the least. Years earlier, an internal conflict between the members of the Q, resulted in supernovas going off. I don't know what kind of damage we would see in this conflict, but I imagine it could be worse... maybe a lot worse." Riker noticed that the betting had stopped at Spock. "So are you folding, calling or raising the ante?"

Spock turned back to the game in play, called and raised the bet another twenty. "So what steps are you taking to prevent this from occurring?" he asked.

"Fold," Riker sighed and threw his cards down. "Not much, to be honest. Captain Picard has tried talking to both sides to get them to stop this feud, but frankly, we're pretty much helpless."

"I fail to see how this conflict involves Shea."

"I just assumed you knew. Shea is related to them. At her core, she's one of them and both sides want her."

"One of them," Spock repeated slowly. After a moment of introspection, Spock set his cards face up, winning the hand.

"Oh, a full house," Deanna said. "Well played."

"Yes, indeed, Counselor," he acknowledged in return. "Well played." He passed his stack of chips to her, now far larger in quantity than when the game began. "Clearly you have earned this. I will cancel my plans for the foreseeable future. It seems there are more important issues to address." He stood from the table. "Good night," he said abruptly and departed.

Riker smiled at his wife. "I think we have a stay of execution. Nicely done, Deanna."

"Thank you," she said smugly and proceeded to deal the next round. "Federation rules, jokers wild."


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Rated M for sexual content!

* * *

Chapter 9 - Intimate Connections and Obsessive Compulsions

When Chorack lay spent, Shea moved on. She'd made no attempt to renew his energy, nor would she do so for any of the men she intended to visit this night. Prolonged contact was not only unnecessary, it was undesirable. Picard was the only one she wanted to bond with. She learned from Ship that Data was not aboard. He had transported over to the Enterprise for a poker game. No matter, she always preferred to visit Data last, after her biological needs had been met. Right now she chose to visit Scotty. His affectionate geniality would be a welcome contrast to what she had just experienced. She went to Engineering and found him conferring with Bleton, their small green-skinned, bug-eyed Ketlin expert on sentient vessels. Bleton was blinking furiously at Scotty, apparently agitated about something. Not that his agitation was particularly unusual. The little man was very protective of his charge and easily incensed if he thought any of the crew were being careless. Bleton stormed off, waving his long skinny arms. His two Ketlin assistants ran after him.

"What was that about?" Shea asked as she approached.

"One of the crew has a hookah and has been smoking Cardassian herbs," Scotty replied. "Bleton insists the second hand smoke is affecting Ship."

"Ship," Shea called out, "have you been getting stoned and not telling me?"

"You're all over-reacting," Ship replied. "There's nothing wrong with a little recreation in one's spare time."

"You're on duty twenty-four seven. You don't have spare time. No recreational drugs, period."

"I'll make sure the hookah goes," Scotty said.

"Party-poopers," Ship complained.

Scotty chuckled, then stopped to smile at Shea. "Dare I ask if you've come for a visit with me, Lass?"

"Aye, Mr. Scott, that I have," she teased with a similar lilt. "Assumin' you're available that is."

"I am that. Come along then." He took her by the hand and led her into a darkened room in the back. When the door clicked shut, the lighting rose softly revealing a bed filled with pillows, and surrounded by flickering candles.

"Looks like you were expecting me."

"No. I always keep the storage supply room outfitted like this," he joked. "Besides, what makes you think it was you I was expecting. But as long as you're here, we may as well take advantage." He ran his finger down the self-closing zipper on the front of her uniform and it popped open. He pushed the fabric aside and looked at her revealed before him, then his smile turned down in anger. "I'm going to give that Chorack a piece of my mind."

_Ooops, _Shea thought as she realized he was looking at a distinct pattern of bruises on her stomach and chest, a pattern that matched Chorack's head ridges. In her eagerness, she had forgotten to wait for them to fade from view.

"And tell him what? Not to be a Klingon?"

"I'd tell him to be gentle with you."

"He was being gentle. Please don't worry , they'll go away in a bit."

"I will worry. That's not right."

"Scotty, if I were a Klingon female, I would be displaying them as a badge of honor. It's a cultural thing. You need to let it go." She waited for him to stop frowning, but he still had that look in his eye. "Okay, if this is so upsetting to you, we can spend our time together tonight discussing Klingon mating practices. Seems a shame though. I was so looking forward to enjoying yours."

His gaze moved up from the bruising to her face. "Well, when you put it like that… I guess I can let it go, at least for tonight."

"Good," she said and kissed him until his tension fled and he was back on track with her. She in turn let herself relax in his arms. She didn't need to be on guard. His lovemaking was reliably sweet, nonaggressive and very vanilla. He might not be the most imaginative of lovers, but he was absolutely dependable. This would be about as opposite an experience to the Klingon wresting match she had just endured as there could be. When she laid herself back on the bed, she let him take the lead, wanting nothing more than to be pampered and caressed. Scotty was good at both. Even when he pressed himself deep into her and cried out on finding his release, he did so with restraint as if fearing he might break her. She might have found his caution amusing if she didn't find it so endearing. She held him close, as her body absorbed every drop he'd given her, and it worked its way through her system providing the relief she desperately needed. Oh, that feels better, she thought, sighing as the warm sensation soothed the gnawing ache she had felt a moment before. The underlying hunger had quieted for the moment. She wished that this were the end of it and she had gotten all she needed. Unlikely.

She thought of Julian, who was undoubtedly growing impatient. He was probably pacing the floor by now, but she liked lying here with Scotty, who was so undemanding and relentlessly kind. She stayed until he rose to the occasion again and repeated his earlier efforts. Not bad for a man his age, she thought, pleased with the effect she had on him. When he fell asleep, she knew there was no rousing him a third time. She stayed anyway, until the deep dull pain in her pelvis returned, along with an unpleasant restless feeling in her arms and legs that made it impossible to lie there comfortably. She threw herself to her feet in frustration, compelled to move on. She covered Scotty with a blanket, dressed and left.

When she entered Sickbay, she saw that she had been correct in her expectations. Julian was on his feet waiting for her.

"About damn time," he said. He came straight for her, making no pretense at seduction, and dispensing with foreplay. She felt a similar urgency and made no objection as he pushed her hips against a biobed, stripped her and entered her almost in one move. Within minutes, he exploded and she climaxed hard in response, crying out at both the pleasure of the orgasm and the relief that came with it.

"Better?" he asked still out of breath, and she nodded. "Me, too," he said and pulled out with a groan then pressed her back onto the biobed. "Now I can take my time with you."

She wasn't sure how to feel about that. Julian liked to experiment. Being the brilliant result of illegal genetic enhancement, his mind often went in unpredictable directions. Something they had in common. Often his imaginative approach was fun. Sometimes, not so much, especially here in Sickbay where he had all his medical instruments readily available.

"Wouldn't you prefer going to your quarters?" she asked hopefully. "We could have a real bed."

"No thanks, I'm good." He reached over her and flipped on the monitors above her head.

Damn, she thought. He was still determined to measure every biological function of hers, even now. She frowned at him. "Mr. Romance," she pronounced sarcastically.

"Oh, as in candles, flowers, low lights, music, and such. They'd just get in our way. I need to see what's going on here. I suppose we could have some music if you like, though. Ship, could we have some classical guitar, volume level three?" Stringed music instantly began playing softly in the background. "And as for the bright lights, I have a fix for that too." He produced a blindfold and wrapped it around her eyes. "There, now just lie back and let your imagination take over."

The only thing that came to mind was the floating cabana in the Holodeck where Jean-Luc was still sleeping, but it didn't seem right to picture herself there when it was Julian's hands upon her.

"Why don't you tell me about an experience of yours," she suggested, hoping it would distract her from her guilty thoughts.

"All right. Let me see. What's popping into my brain might not be the most romantic thing I've ever experienced, but until I met you, it was definitely the most erotic. I was at a medical conference, when I happened to run across a colleague," he said.

"Does everything have to revolve around medicine for you?"

"Let me finish. She told me she loved playing games and invited me over. Turned out she had a lovely young roommate. The two of them took me upstairs, tied me to the bed and did all sorts of unspeakable things to me. Best conference ever."

She laughed at that. "So is that what you'd like me to do to you?"

"Maybe next time. Tonight, I'm in charge." He pinched her nipples firmly to make his point, then ran his hand down between her legs, massaging her until her breathing quickened. "Do you know why I told you that story?" he asked, letting his voice sound slightly menacing. "It's because I dream of tying you up and doing unspeakable things to you."

Her muscles tensed in a fight or flight response, waiting to see if this was just erotic talk or if he were serious. Then she felt him pulling one of the biobed's restraints over her. She leaped to her feet snarling and whipped the blindfold off.

"Sorry. So sorry." Julian held up his hands in surrender and backed away. "I wanted to see how much you trust me. Obviously, not at all."

She saw the look of hurt and disappointment in his eyes, but she still felt threatened, even though she knew it was unwarranted. "Don't ever try that again." She took a deep breath then let it go.

"I won't. I promise," he said, and slowly lowered his arms. "Has anyone told you that you have serious trust issues?"

She nodded and smiled bitterly. "All the time."

"You're not going to run off now, are you?"

"No, I can't. I still need this. I still need you."

"That's a relief," he moved toward her again, taking her in his arms. "Why did that scare you? You must know I would never actually hurt you. I couldn't even if I wanted to. You could easily break those straps."

"I know," she said, recognizing her irrational response. "I just can't tolerate it, not even the idea of it, not even in fun."

"I'll never suggest it again then," he promised and meant it. He wouldn't have to. He'd gotten the information he wanted. It had all been recorded.

#

Later when Shea left Sickbay and Julian behind, she still felt annoyed with herself at her violent reaction to Julian's innocent proposal to play a sex game she knew to be a common one. For a very brief moment, she had actually considered ripping his head off. She could simply have said, 'No, thank you.' Besides, she liked Julian, a lot, and knew him to be perfectly trustworthy. Sometimes, she didn't understand herself at all. She came around the corner and saw Data exiting the transporter room as expected.

"Did you come out ahead tonight?" she called out.

He stopped and turned toward her. "Affirmative."

"Was it fun seeing your friends?"

He nodded. "Yes. I should remind you that they are also your friends."

"Yeah. Sure they are," she said unable to keep the skepticism from her voice. There was that trust issue thing rearing up again. She shook her head at herself.

"Were you aware that Ambassador Spock joined us?"

"Really? Well, he does have the face for it."

"Agreed. His winnings were substantial. I endeavor to keep my facial expression equally unrevealing, but somehow it doesn't seem to work as well for me."

She heard the contraction but decided not to comment. "That's because you have too many tells, Data."

He tilted his head at her uncertainly.

"Like that one," she said. "And your eyes twitch when you get excited."

His lips opened slightly in protest.

"There's another," she said. "It shows you're feeling defensive."

"I was not aware that my moods were so transparent," he replied and his mouth turned slightly down at the corners.

"Don't feel bad. It just makes you that much more attractive and approachable."

"Thank you," Data replied recognizing a complement. "Will you be joining me in my quarters?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

He offered his arm and together they completed the short journey to his room. He sat beside her on his sofa.

"Has this transition to sexual maturity been difficult for you?" he asked. "Are you currently in any discomfort?"

She smiled at his concern. No one else had bothered to ask. "Yes, and no. It's difficult but nothing compared to the first time when I had no idea what was happening and zero control over it. As for my discomfort, it comes in waves, rushing in and receding. It's pretty much in recession at the moment."

"Good." Data nodded. "Sometimes I regret that this body of mine is unable to provide you with the organic ingredient your body requires. However, that very inadequacy demonstrates that when you seek intimate contact with me it is because you wish to, not because you are compelled to."

"That's true," she agreed. "Like now."

"Ah," he said understanding the message and his eyes twitched. He took her by the hand and led her to his bed where he quickly and efficiently undressed the both of them. He closed his eyes, and kissed her, opening his mouth to hers.

She liked kissing and touching Data. He didn't taste like anyone else, or feel like anyone else, not better exactly, just different. He was very slick and smooth, with no little bumps or textural imperfections. His engineered body stayed a consistent temperature - no sweaty palms or cold feet. He never complained about physical discomfort or fatigue, and never fell asleep while she lay awake. And then there was his sexual programming. Dr. Soong must have been one kinky fellow to have made sure Data could climax like any man and then to have programmed him with the working knowledge of every variety of sexual technique and position known and practiced among the humanoid races. Best of all, he could make himself vibrate. Sometimes, she wondered just what Soong had in mind. Whatever Soong's intent, Shea enjoyed the result. She especially appreciated the way Data always found something new that he had "been wanting to try." Some surprises resulted in mind-shattering orgasms, others in hysterical laughter. But either way, Data was always stimulating.

Data moved her confidently but gently from one position to another, employing his knowledge and physical resources. She knew he was continually calculating pressure and duration based on her heart rate, respiration and auditory response. He had learned to ignore her intermediary protests of 'no' and 'enough' and persevere until she lay limp in his arms. When she reached that point, he allowed his own stimulation to find release.

When Shea opened her eyes again, she found Data smiling at her, his head resting on his hand, supported by his elbow. She smiled back. "You look like the cat who swallowed the canary."

"If by that, you mean I appear happy, you are correct. I missed this interaction between us and am pleased to experience it again."

"Me too. It was a strange feeling to know exactly what I was missing, and yet not want it. Guess that's why I've been such a pain in the ass to everyone. I hope Jean-Luc can forgive me for some of the stunts I pulled."

"I hope he can forgive me for laughing," Data replied. He thought about his surprise and opened his mouth to tell her. Instead, to his own surprise, he said. "I love you."

Her eyes opened a little wider for a moment, but then she relaxed again. "I know. I love you, too." She sighed heavily and looked away. "Is that wrong?"

"How can the most valued of emotions be considered wrong?" he asked.

"We both know that what I do and what I feel is socially unacceptable by human standards. People like me are judged ill or immoral. Humans have long valued monogamy and have enforced it culturally and legally. Wars have been fought over it. Even Klingons despise promiscuity among their females, and I leave its definition in the dust. There is something seriously wrong with me on a very fundamental level."

"I assume you are referring to the fact that you suffer from a genetically engineered hormonal imbalance and built-in chemical dependency upon the emissions of human males, conditions which Dr. Bashir is attempting to analyze and alter. However, I strongly object to your use of the word 'wrong' which denotes a moral judgment. In my view, you are perfection. And as you know, I have excellent vision."

Shea smiled, knowing Data was making a joke. His eyesight could register her on a microscopic level. Then her smile faded as her aching discomfort returned. Damn, she thought in frustration, when was this going to end? Not yet obviously. She considered her options. Picard wasn't ready for her, nor were any of the others she had already visited. That meant she would have to find someone outside her inner circle, which could open a whole new Pandora's box. Spock was out of the question, of course. Maybe she should go over to the Enterprise for a hit and run with someone new, or better yet visit one of her so-called friends. She immediately thought of Riker, sorely tempted. Deanna would kill her or certainly want to. Worf, maybe? Lovely, another Klingon wrestling match. And he didn't much like her to begin with. How about Geordi? He liked her. And she still thought of recruiting him. No, no, no… she told herself, that wasn't the right way to go about it. None of her choices seemed like good ones, but she had to do something, and soon.

"Hate to bust your bubble," she said, "but I'm also perfectly in need of a biological male again. I have to go."

"Wait, please. I was going to tell you about this sooner, but found it a difficult topic to broach. Even now, I feel… nervous."

"Nervous, as in fearful?"

"Yes, exactly. I want very much that this should please you, but I fear it could easily have the opposite effect. I considered whether it would be best to prepare you and seek permission, or if instead I should take you by surprise in the hope that any objection would be made moot by the actual experience." He shook his head. "Having a fully interfaced emotion chip providing contradictory information definitely presents challenges."

"Data, I'm trying to be patient here, but…"

"Perhaps I should simply show you," Data said. He tugged her from the bed and walked her over to a small storage container sitting in the corner and opened it. A mist of icy air fogged her view for a moment, then she saw rows of liquid filled tubes.

"I hope you are not offended," he said. " Dr. Bashir requested donations from men with whom you have had no prior contact on both Ship and the Enterprise. The organic content has been kept alive to ensure that it remains effective."

She sighed, seeing the tubes, undoubtedly provided by a very small handful of men. "I appreciate what you're trying to do here, but I have to be careful how much I get from any one person. I could end up tied to someone I don't even know or like for that matter."

"Yes, that is why each vial is from a different donor. There are no duplicates."

She scowled and looked back at the vials. "No way. There must be over a hundred there."

"One hundred twenty to be exact. Another seven hundred are in storage in the infirmary. Dr. Bashir asserts these tubes represent personal fantasies, but I prefer to accept the donors' claims that their desire is to help you."

For a moment, Shea thought she hadn't heard right. As the numbers slowly sank in, she looked again at the vials, and felt overwhelmed. Tears trickled down her face. "They don't think I'm a terrible person."

"Absolutely not," Data said, looking at her in surprise. Then he brushed her face dry with his hand. He withdrew a tube, and closed the door again. "You may ingest these directly if you wish, or you may prefer that I administer them. For selfish reasons, I am hoping you will choose the latter method. May I demonstrate?"

She nodded somewhat in a daze, and he opened a small panel on the left side of his pelvic wall. He popped the tube into a small receptacle and reclosed the panel. He smiled at her.

"I have been looking forward to this," he announced then reached for her, lifted her into the air and moved her so that her legs wrapped around him and her pelvis was in position.

"Should I make this last or finish quick?" he asked.

"I think the sooner, the better."

He entered her and when the vial reached the correct temperature, he let himself explode, releasing the vial's contents. She cried out and arched backward not breathing at all. He held her there until his own sweet trembling reaction ceased, then watched in amazement as she continued to spasm. Finally, she inhaled sharply, and collapsed against him. He smiled smugly holding her there, waiting for her breathing to slow.

"I take it that was good for you?" he said at last.

"Oh shut up. Don't think you can lord it over me now, just because you have all those tubes at your disposal."

He said nothing, but continued to smile.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - Unexpected Developments

Picard woke to daylight and for a moment he had no idea where he was. Instead of the background hum of Ship's engines, ocean surf pounded in the distance and the air smelled of salt and water. Then his memory came rushing back - Risa recreated on the holodeck, Shea in his arms, her awareness in his mind. His year-long penance had ended. He rolled over and saw that she was lying next to him, eyes open. He had no illusion that she had been there the entire time, as he still had lingering images of her activities that had infiltrated his dreams.

"Good morning," she said.

"Is it? I have no idea even of the date, let alone the time."

"Right here, right now, it's morning. The start of a new day." She kissed his cheek then rolled away from him. "Since our vacation on Risa got cut short, maybe there's something you'd like to do before we leave this place."

"I think we did just about everything I wanted to last night, certainly everything I could, though not nearly enough for you, obviously. I trust you managed to address your needs."

"If by that, you're asking how I'm doing, the answer is, I'm fine now, thank you."

He nodded and frowned and told himself to shut the hell up. He forced those old jealous thoughts back in the box where they belonged.

"So do you want to stay here a little while longer?" she asked again.

He shook his head. "Time to get back to work. Besides, none of this is real."

"It's as real as we want it to be. "

"Not as real as Spock planning to kill himself. Ship, how long have I been in here?" Picard asked.

"Twelve hours, thirty-one minutes," Ship replied.

"Good lord." Picard got to his feet. "He must think I either abandoned ship or died."

"I'm sure he doesn't think either of those things," Shea said. "Chances are he's figured out exactly what's going on and knows exactly what we've been up to."

Picard cursed under his breath, searching for his clothing. "Before I met you, I was a dignified man who kept his personal life personal. Now everyone seems to know my business."

Shea clucked sympathetically. "You're right. I don't know why it is, but I do seem to gravitate toward men determined to resist my charms lest their lusty inner selves be revealed to the world. And now everyone knows your deep dark secret. Oh, the shame, the shame." She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead in mock angst.

Picard sighed deeply. "You never tire of making fun of me, do you? Why must you be so damned aggravating?"

"Why must you?" she asked. "I thought this is what you've been wanting all this time. You and me bonded again. I thought you'd wake up content, happy even, but instead you're worrying about Spock and complaining about what others might be thinking of you. Forgive me, if I'm a little disappointed."

"Point taken," he said and re-arranged his thinking. "I apologize. I'm more than content, more than happy… I'm thrilled. Truly. I think I developed a habit of arguing with you over this past year that I'm going to have to unlearn. You have to admit though that you have been extremely annoying and disrespectful. You have no idea what you put me through, the patience I've had to exercise, the restraint."

"That must explain the holodeck program you were trying to keep secret from me, the one where you would give a thorough dressing down to a holo that looked a whole lot like me."

He smiled sheepishly. "It was just a way of letting off steam."

"What else did you do to that holo?"

He looked away. "As I said, I was letting off steam. And it was remarkably unsatisfactory anyway. I wanted the real you."

"Well, now you've got me."

"So I do," he acknowledged, then leaned over and kissed her. "Sorry if I'm a bit tense. We've had so many setbacks, you and I. It seems like every time I start to relax and take our connection for granted, I lose it again. Ours may be a great romance, but it certainly hasn't been an easy one."

"If you wanted easy, you should have stayed on the Enterprise, and hired a Dabo girl."

He chuckled at the thought and headed for the shower. "A Dabo girl… now why didn't I ever think of that?"

She threw a pillow at him just as he disappeared through the door.

"I'm going to go see Spock and try to talk some sense into him," he called out from the running water. "See if I can get him to change his mind."

"Well, good luck with that," she said softly and sent the message telepathically so she didn't have to yell to be heard.

The shower ended and Picard stepped back into the room with her as he dried himself with a towel. "You don't think I'll be successful?"

She shook her head. "He's very stubborn. Unless you can come up with something he hasn't already considered, he won't budge. Maybe I'll just stay in the holodeck here and work on an execution scenario. I want to make sure it's done right."

Picard could feel her shielding his mind from the depth of her sadness. He wanted to hug her, offer some words of comfort, but he knew she wanted no sentimental gestures. So he simply nodded in understanding, and quietly made it his personal mission to get Spock to change his mind so that Shea wouldn't have to live with that memory.

As he exited the holodeck, he glanced back to see that the glistening sands and ocean waves had vanished. In their place lay a dank underground prison. Picard was struck with the impression that it looked like a terrible place to die.

#

Ambassador Spock sat in Ship's conference room, experiencing the morphing shapes, undulating textures and changing colors of the walls and ceilings along with a strange throbbing music playing in the background, all of which, as Ship explained, represented an alternate reality dubbed the Chaos. Spock normally measured the passage of time on a subconscious level and could provide an exact amount down to the second when queried, but in trying to understand and quantify this environment, he had lost track. It was mesmerizingly beautiful and yet markedly disturbing at the same time. He looked for some mathematical continuity to explain it, but couldn't identify any rhyme, reason or repeating pattern in it.

"Ship, freeze display," Picard ordered and the movement came to a halt. "How long have you been in here watching this, Ambassador?"

Spock refocused his attention, surprised that he hadn't noticed the captain's presence. "To be honest, I am uncertain."

"The answer is one hour twenty-one minutes," Ship informed them.

"Impressive," Picard said. "Most people can't handle more than a few minutes before they're doubled over a disposal chute. Occasionally, however, it's come in handy for speeding up negotiations."

"I find the display fascinating," Spock stated. "Ship informs me that it is representational of the way Shea experiences her place of origin."

"So I'm told," Picard said dismissively. He had more urgent matters to discuss. "Ambassador, I have to talk to you about this plan of yours. I understand the challenge of the disease you're confronting, but I can't condone ending your life in this manner. Right now, Shea is in the Holodeck trying to come up with a way to meet your demands, and I'm wondering if you have any concept of the burden you've placed on her."

"Indeed," Spock acknowledged. "I shall have to express my sincere appreciation for her efforts on my behalf."

"A simple thank you isn't going to help her sleep at night. What you're asking her to do is unconscionable. If you have any regard left for her, you'll stop this madness now."

"I did not ask her to execute me. She volunteered," Spock reminded him.

"Right now, I'm tempted to volunteer myself," Picard told him angrily.

"If you wish, Captain, however, I think you would lose far more sleep than she would. Shea has an amazing capacity to compartmentalize unpleasant experiences and rationalize her actions. At any rate, you needn't concern yourself for I have decided to postpone my execution for the foreseeable future. Meanwhile, with your permission, I shall remain on board this vessel."

"For how long?"

"Uncertain. Dr. Bashir has provided me with a new prescription that seems to be working better than the last. It appears I have more time at my disposal than anticipated. I offer my services to you until such time as I am incapable of providing them."

Picard couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're… you're asking to join this crew?"

"Precisely."

"Spock, we're a rogue ship. We work undercover, and are considered outlaws."

Spock nodded. "I should fit right in."

Picard felt like sitting down all of a sudden, and did. "This is unexpected. Not that I wouldn't be pleased to have you, but… Are you absolutely certain about this?"

"I am. I have long been curious about living ships, but have never encountered one. Your vessel has been kind enough to answer my questions, but I have so many more, it would take a lifetime to address them all."

"I see. Then this is about Ship - your curiosity about her."

"In part. It's also about what I learned while playing poker last night aboard the Enterprise with Commander Deanna Troi. She has a very unconventional approach when it comes to counseling."

"Sometimes," Picard conceded, having experienced some of them personally. "I take it she dissuaded you from your plans."

"Indirectly. She brought together a grouping of individuals who by way of casual conversation revealed to me the nature of your true purpose here."

"Which is?" Picard prompted, not sure what Spock thought that was.

"To prevent a full out war between two allegedly omnipotent forces, D and the Q, whose focus of dispute is apparently centered on one of your crew."

"Oh… that." Picard smiled in response. "Well, I don't know if you could call it our true purpose. It's certainly an unresolved issue, a problem that may very well return to plague us once more, and over which we have very little control. Actually, make that no control whatsoever. We experience, we observe, we protest, and that's about it. If you join us, I'm afraid you would simply be another voice in the wind."

"Perhaps, or perhaps I can find a way to be more than that. If you are willing to let me try."

"Yes, yes, of course," Picard said, and felt almost hopeful seeing Spock's steady gaze with no indication of uncertainty or intimidation lying behind it. "We'd appreciate any help you can provide. I assume your preference would be to serve as science officer."

"It would. That is my area of expertise."

"So it is. Consider yourself hired then. Welcome to the Redemption, Ambassador."

"Thank you, Captain, but as I am no longer serving in the capacity of ambassador, addressing me as Mr. would be more appropriate."

"Very well. Mr. Spock. Might take some getting used to."

"I can be patient. I am well experienced in training Captains."

"I'll keep that in mind," Picard said and smiled in response. He couldn't wait to see the look on Shea's face when he shared this development, so he sent no message, verbal or mental. "I'll expect you at the daily staff meeting in here tomorrow at o-eight hundred. We'll figure out your duties then. Meanwhile, continue to familiarize yourself with Ship's operations. You're dismissed, Mr. Spock."

Spock nodded, and took his leave. Picard tapped his com link. "Shea. Shut down that damned prison holo program and come to the conference room. There's been a change in plans." He cut off his com link before she could question him. He leaned back, put his heels on the table and smiled. When Shea walked in, he was still smiling.

"You're looking very pleased with yourself," she said.

"I believe I just one-upped you on the recruitment tally."

"Recruitment? Here I thought you had some good news about Spock."

Picard said nothing and just smiled wider. This was going to be fun.

Shea stared at him, puzzled, then squinted suspiciously. "No. There's no way. Not in a million years. He would never…"

"I don't think you've ever really appreciated just how persuasive I can be."

"Did you give him one of your mind-numbing speeches?"

He wished he could say yes and take all the credit, but deception wasn't an option. "Actually, no. He made up his mind during last night's poker game on the Enterprise. He wants to help us with your problem."

"Which one is that? I have so many."

"The one with D and the Q."

"Oh. I should have known. The more impossible the task, the more intriguing he finds it."

"You don't sound nearly as pleased as I thought you would."

"I'm glad he's staying among the living, but not so sure about him doing it here."

"You can't quibble about his experience and analytical abilities. He's an extremely valuable asset. Any starship captain would give his right arm for the opportunity to add Spock to his crew."

"I know, I know. We'd be lucky to have him, blah, blah, blah," she waved her hand dismissively. "And if I didn't have a personal history with the man, I'd be as thrilled at the prospect as you, but I do, so I'm not."

"You have a personal history with a lot of men. Get over it. I already hired him."

"Of course you did. After all, you are the Captain," she groaned, then she sighed audibly. "Fine. I'll deal with it. But for just a moment there, I actually thought you were consulting me."

"I didn't think it necessary."

"No, of course, you didn't. Why would you? Just because we share our thoughts, doesn't mean they're identical. I still have my own opinion. I'll thank you to ask me for it occasionally."

Picard frowned at her, annoyed that his good news had soured so abruptly. Her personal history with Spock was obviously a lot more complicated than she had revealed. Serves her right, he thought. _That's what happens when you keep secrets._ By the look on her face, he concluded she'd gotten the message.

The next morning, the senior staff of the Redemption convened in the conference room as usual, with one notable alteration. When Spock took a seat at the table without comment, the others exchanged puzzled looks. It wasn't their place to question him so they merely waited for Captain Picard to explain.

"Good morning," Picard began, "As you've noticed, we have a new addition. Mr. Spock will be joining us as Science Officer. Up to now, Mr. Data has done an excellent job serving double duty in charge of both Operations and Sciences, for which I commend him. However, it has not escaped my attention that with our added staffing and Ship's growth, the time involved in supervision of those departments has grown in proportion, and Data has had little time for personal pursuits. I trust that by handing the science department over to Mr. Spock, that will be corrected."

"I had no complaints," Data stated.

"No, you never do. Which means the rest of us fall into a pattern of taking your tireless work ethic for granted. I know you have other interests. This will give you time to explore them."

"Thank you, sir. I must admit that I have missed my music. And painting. And dreaming. Perhaps I will get another pet," Data mused aloud.

"I'm sure you can find many ways to fill your free time, Data. First, however, make sure Mr. Spock is fully trained to take over your duties. He's never worked with a sentient vessel before."

Data nodded, "It does take some adjustment."

"All for the better," Ship piped in, uninvited. "Spock and I are already getting to know each other. We'll be fine, don't worry, my Captain. A little more time and I'll get him loosened up."

"Fascinating," Spock pronounced.

"See, he's in love with me already."

"I'm sure," Picard replied with a half smile, noting Spock's raised eyebrow. Having introduced Spock, he turned to his other officers, taking each of their status reports, departmental concerns, and support requests in turn. Chorack wanted to add more security personnel. Data suggested replacing the replicators with updated versions. Dr. Bashir wanted to promote one of his medical assistants to surgery and hire someone new to replace her. Mr. Scott asserted that Ship's plasma core containment system might be improved with a new liquid tritanium polymer composite he had been researching. Picard encouraged him to look into it further. Then Bleton blinked aggressively for a full minute, without translation from Ship. When he stopped finally, Ship remained silent.

"We're waiting, Ship," Picard urged.

"It's not worth repeating."

"That's not for you to judge. I expect you to translate Bleton's words verbatim, immediately. That's an order."

"Oh all right. He said that I've been behaving badly. That I've been rude and disrespectful and rebellious on several occasions. He says that all this new growth is affecting me, and he's noticed that in the last few days, I've been especially unstable. He blames Shea."

Up to that moment, Shea had been sitting quietly in the back of the room pretending to examine her fingernails. She looked up to see every face trained on her. She shrugged her 'Who me?' response.

"How is Shea to blame for this?" Picard asked Bleton.

Bleton began blinking again and shaking a stern finger in Shea's direction.

Ship reluctantly translated again. "He says it's because she and I were mentally linked when her puberty kicked in. He says now I'm in puberty too. He's crazy. I'm perfectly fine. I don't know what he's talking about."

"I thought your technical modifications rendered you gender neutral," Picard said.

"They do. Like I said, he's nuts."

"And if he's not? What would that mean for you?"

"Theoretically, it would mean that I'm becoming a fully sexualized adult, able to mate and reproduce as technologically unenhanced Starwhales do. But I'm enhanced, so it's not an issue."

"But if it became an issue, how would that affect you?" Picard asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," Ship said.

"Ship is a sequential hermaphrodite," Shea explained. "In its natural state, a Starwhale is capable of fully transforming from one sex to another, comparable to a number of fish native to Earth. Protogynous hermaphrodites first develop female reproductive organs, but those can change into male reproductive organs under the right circumstances."

"That's very personal," Ship complained.

Dr. Bashir laughed to hear Ship's discomfort, "Shoe's on the other foot now, isn't it, Ship?"

Ship made a raspberry sound.

"I think Bleton may be right," Data stated. "I too have noted behavioral changes."

Shea stood and experimentally ran her hands along the walls. Ship moaned appreciatively.

"Uh oh," she said, and backed away. Half a dozen tentacles emerged from the wall, reaching for her.

"Stop that," Picard ordered, and the tentacles receded.

"Sorry," Ship said. "Maybe Bleton's on to something. I'm not feeling quite myself."

"Apparently not," Picard agreed, shaken by what he had just witnessed. He walked over to where Shea stood. "I want you to transport over to the Enterprise and stay there until we figure this out."

"Does she have to?" Ship asked.

"I think it best. Open a channel to the Enterprise."

"Enterprise here," a deep male voice answered.

"Mr. Worf, this is Captain Picard. Please lock onto Shea and myself and transport the two of us aboard immediately. I'll explain when we arrive."

"Acknowledged. Prepare for transport."

"You have command, Number One," Picard told Data, and the transport beams caught hold of them.

"Phooey," Ship complained as they disappeared. "He didn't even trust me to transport them."

"He was exercising caution by reducing temptation for you," Data stated, then looked to the others. "Gentlemen, we have work to do."

"Aye," Scotty agreed. "We can't be havin' a randy ship on our hands."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 - Two Ships and One Woman

"So, you're finally here to finish those debriefings," Riker said when Picard and Shea materialized before him on the Bridge.

"No, actually we've run into a bit of a snag," Picard told him. "May I speak with you privately?"

"I should have known," Riker shook his head. "In my ready room."

Picard followed him in, then explained the situation as briefly and delicately as he could.

"So you want her here? With us? You think she'll actually be safer?"

Picard frowned at him. "Don't make light of this. We have a serious malfunction with Ship. It's no different than if the Enterprise computer were infected by a malicious virus."

Riker smiled. "You have to admit it's a little different. We've had plenty of computer malfunctions and not once has the Enterprise ever made a pass at anyone."

"An organic-based ship has inherent advantages and disadvantages. This appears to be one of the latter. She needs to stay here until we make repairs."

"All right, but make it quick. We have orders to check out a Borg ship in the area."

Picard's hairs prickled in alarm. "Any casualties?'

"Not so far. Just an unconfirmed sighting by a civilian transport ship on route to the neutral zone."

"Let's hope they were mistaken."

"Let's hope. So are you staying to keep an eye on her?"

"No, I need to go back and supervise. She's stable for the moment and shouldn't be a problem for anyone if you give her a little space. Something else you should know. As you may have guessed, Ambassador Spock has changed his mind about his execution scenario… postponed until further notice."

"I thought so," Riker nodded and smiled, "Our poker game was very productive."

"So it would seem. What you may not know, is that he's joined our crew on the Redemption."

"What?" Riker exclaimed and sputtered for a moment, "That's… that's just… How am I going to explain this to Starfleet Command?"

Picard shrugged. "Sorry, Captain. Not my problem." He tapped his com link. "One to transport, Ship." Ship's transporter beams took him as he mouthed good luck to Riker and disappeared.

"Thanks," Riker said to the empty air. "Thanks a lot." Then he thought about who was standing outside there on his Bridge and his mood buoyed considerably. Shea was on the Enterprise and Jean-Luc Picard was not. He walked out the door, and straight across the upper Bridge to the turbo-lift. He saw her watching him. "You have the Bridge, Mr. Worf," he announced. When the turbo lift door opened, he stepped inside, turned and crooked a finger for her to join him. She looked at him curiously but followed him in. As the turbo-lift doors closed again, he tapped his com link. "Riker to Troi. Can you meet me in our quarters?"

"Um… all right. I'm just finishing up a session here. I can be there in five minutes," she replied.

"Good. I have a special surprise for you." He cut off the link and smiled at Shea.

She sighed and rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I suppose you've just been dying to get me alone and put me in my place."

"Yes. Yes, we have. Absolutely."

Shea frowned in displeasure, but followed him obediently out of the lift and down the corridor. Riker kept smiling, and waved her to enter when the doors to the quarters he shared with his wife opened before them.

"Sit down," he told her. Then he produced a bottle of something blue, poured a glass, and handed it to her. "You might need this."

She decided he was probably right, and threw the liquid down her throat, feeling the burn. She wasn't looking forward to hearing what Deanna probably wanted to say to her. Riker sat across from her, still wearing that same smug smile and it was really getting annoying. For a moment, she thought about leaving before Deanna showed up.

"You still don't remember anything about that last night, do you?" Riker asked.

"You know those memories weren't transferred, so why ask?"

"I thought maybe Jean-Luc shared his knowledge about it with you."

"Some. Why?" She scowled at him suspiciously, but then the doors opened and Deanna walked in. She stopped and stared at Shea.

"This is my surprise?" Deanna asked.

Riker nodded. "Shea will be staying on board with us for a little while. Apparently, Captain Picard wants her off Ship until they solve a problem they're having over there."

"Oh. Well, that is a surprise," Deanna sat next to her husband. "The last time you were in here was a little over a year ago. But of course you don't remember any of that."

Shea looked from one to the other, wondering what transgression she'd made. She waited for Deanna to tell her the awful thing she had done, but they both just sat there smiling at her. She looked at their faces trying to read their expressions. They didn't look angry, just exasperatingly smug.

"What?" she demanded.

"I'd rather not put it into words," Deanna said. "Why don't you read our memories."

"You want me to read your minds? You're inviting me to?"

"Yes, please," Deanna confirmed and Riker nodded agreement.

"Okay." Shea took a deep breath at this unexpected development. She tentatively reached out to them, expecting to be rebuffed. Instead, she found their minds relaxed, unthreatened, open to her. Not at all what she would have expected. Encouraged, she peeked into their thoughts, and saw images of their shared memories of that night tumble forth unedited. Shea pulled back abruptly, put her hands to her mouth and stared at them wide-eyed.

"Would you like another drink?" Riker asked.

She nodded and held out her glass. He filled it and she gulped it down. She started feeling the effects now, a warm fuzzy buzzing sensation which helped her calm down.

"That was some good-bye I gave you," she said after a moment. "So you're not upset? You're all right with it?"

"Oh yeah," Riker said. "More than all right. It strengthened our marriage. Helped us understand each other better. Helped us understand you better too."

"Well, how about that. So you're really not mad at me then?"

"No," Deanna said emphatically. "No one's mad at you."

She moved over to sit next to Shea, put her arm around her shoulders and kissed her sweetly on the cheek. Shea turned to look at her, and next thing she knew, Deanna's lips were on hers, and there was nothing sisterly about it. There was tongue involved. She held still in surprise, neither encouraging nor resisting, until Deanna finished the kiss. Then Deanna reached for Shea's uniform and began to unzip it. For a moment, she didn't know how to respond. She liked Deanna, admired her even, but didn't see her as a sexual partner. Her body wasn't geared to respond to females. But she had these images in her mind now of how on that last night she had overcome that barrier - with Riker's help, and he was right there, watching his wife undress her, watching her watching him, and looking very turned on.

For a brief moment, Shea felt resentment. Did everything have to come down to this? Was this the only way they could relate to her? But at the same time, she could feel her blood heating up and desire rushing to the forefront. Riker was so close, watching, ready, and suddenly, she couldn't remember wanting anyone more than she wanted him right now.

Meanwhile, Picard was busy instructing Ship to open all the internal programming directives and provide full access to the underlying gender identification protocols, when Shea tentatively reached out to him. _Not now_, he thought back, _We're working. _ He refocused on the task at hand and the people surrounding him - Data, Spock, Bashir, Scotty and Bleton.

"Do you have complete access now?"

"Yes, sir," Data replied. "But I am not detecting any problem in the programming itself. I believe this is purely a biological response overwhelming Ship's technological controls."

"I agree," Spock stated.

"Bleton, do you concur as well?" Picard asked.

Bleton nodded and blinked each eye one at a time. Picard recognized that as a yes.

"Have you ever encountered this in an enhanced Starwhale before?"

Bleton gave him one unified blink. No. Then Bleton performed a rapid succession of blinks in a variety of combinations.

"Bleton says I am unique - both in my origin and in my connection with a non-Ketlin," Ship explained.

"You told me that you were never part of a pod," Dr. Bashir prompted.

"Correct," Ship replied. "I've never lived with my own kind."

"Where did you live then?" Picard asked.

"I don't want to upset you, my Captain. I recognize how sensitive you are on this subject. It's not a pleasant memory for me either and I'd just as soon not talk about it."

"Ship, I need you to answer the question. Where were you living?"

Ship was slow to reply, but finally it came. "On a Borg ship."

Picard felt his heart clench but kept his voice calm. "Please elaborate."

"I've been told they killed my parents in an attempt to assimilate them. The Borg recovered me as an embryo and I was born in a Borg birthing vat. My tech enhancements began there."

"So you were part of the collective?"

"Yes. Until I was pulled free and my connection to them was broken."

"Pulled free how?"

"You really should talk to Shea."

"I'm talking to you. Answer the question."

"She was there too, in the collective. She saw a means to escape by freeing me. We got out together. You have no idea how wonderful that felt to fly free of them, with her in my mind, only her."

Picard swallowed hard, realizing how much she had kept from him. She'd let him believe that she had happened upon Ship in her travels and traded favors to gain ownership. Picard hadn't bothered to learn the details of that transaction and had simply accepted her remarks at face value. The truth was that she had been assimilated, just as he had once been. Why would she not have told him? No wonder Ship was so attached to her. They'd been part of the hive mind together. Their link wasn't a casual one, and no doubt unprecedented among Starwhales. He was beginning to appreciate Bleton's challenges.

"Well, I suppose this clarifies a few things," he said unhappily. "Ship, I get the impression that you're feeling sexually attracted to Shea."

"Don't be absurd," Ship countered. "I'm a technologically enhanced Starwhale. She's a humanoid. We're not physically compatible."

"I'm glad you recognize that. And yet, your behavior earlier today indicated otherwise."

"I just wanted to be close to her. That's all."

"How close?"

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"You wouldn't want to hurt her, would you?"

"No. Of course not."

"Then you need to cooperate with us fully so we can ensure these biological urges you're experiencing do not result in her injury."

"I'm not having urges. And I'd never hurt her, I swear. Maybe if you people had just been willing to talk to me about what was going on, none of this would have happened."

"Sorry," Dr. Bashir answered. "I should have listened better."

"You called me a stalker."

"Again, I apologize."

"Since this is biologically based, can you come up with a medical treatment, Doctor?" Picard asked.

"Wide-spectrum hormone suppressants should help."

"Good. Any additional suggestions?" he asked the others.

"I could program a subroutine to block thoughts of procreation," Data stated. "It may offer us some additional control over the situation."

"Very good. Make it so. Anything else?"

"If these efforts prove insufficient, perhaps locating another Starwhale would be prudent," Spock replied.

"Oooo…. a blind date," Ship said.

Bleton began blinking furiously again and waving his arms.

"He definitely doesn't like the idea," Scotty said.

"Bleton says that it would be very dangerous," Ship translated. "Enhanced Starwhales are only bred artificially under special conditions, in carefully monitored containment units. Never in the wild. Unenhanced starwhales are unpredictable and often aggressive, especially when courting and mating. Living inside a starwhale is the last place you'd want to be at that time. When mating, the male clamps onto the female's back and…. oh dear. That's terrible! Forget it. No blind dates. I'll take the hormone shots."

Picard nodded to the doctor and Bashir headed for Sickbay. "Keep me informed," he told the others and left as well. He was boiling mad and trying hard not to show it, but he was more than willing to share his anger with the person responsible. As soon as he found a private spot, he opened his mind to her again.

"Oh no," he said aloud when he realized who she was with, and just how far things had progressed. Apparently, Deanna and Will thought it would be all fun and games with no one getting hurt. They were about to have their fantasy ripped apart. Shea had Will in her grasp and wasn't letting go, bent on binding him to her, with no regard for his allegiance to Deanna, who only now was beginning to suspect something was seriously wrong. This was what Shea had been trying to share with him, looking for guidance, but he had shut her out and left her on her own.

_Release him!_ he commanded.

He felt a tremor in her mind and knew she heard him, but it wasn't enough to make her stop. Picard sensed the hot energy she was pouring into Riker, renewing his body, filling him with need for her, and ultimately staking her claim. She'd owned him once and now was determined to own him again.

_He belongs to someone else. You have no right._

_He invited me in. He wants this. I can feel it._

Picard knew she wasn't about to stop on her own. In desperation, he played his ace. _You can't have us both. If you pull him in, you push me out. So choose. Him or me._

_You won't leave me._

_I will. I've done it before. I'll do it again. Let him go or I'm gone. _

Shea cried out in anguish and pushed Riker away from her, ripping her mind from his, cutting off her sweet energy in mid-flow. He fell into an anguished heap, sobbing.

"What have you done to him? What is the matter with you?" Deanna screamed at her, her face twisted with rage.

Shea reached out in her mind to Ship. _Get me out of here. NOW!_

"No!"Picard yelled, but before he could counter her order, Ship had her in the transport beam. And that's where he lost her. _Shea? Can you hear me? Shea?_

"Ship, where is Shea?" Picard called out.

There was no answer. Instead, the main overhead lights went out, replaced by the soft orange glow of the emergency back-up generators. Then the hum of Ship's engines faded and a low continuous moaning sound echoed through the corridors.

"Ship, what are you doing?"

Still no answer. Picard hurried back to engineering where he found Bleton, Spock, Scotty and Data rushing about, checking readouts, and trying to reboot Ship's main computer.

"Status report," he demanded.

"Computers are offline. We have impulse control on manual," Data reported.

"No loss of power in the main engines," Scotty reported. "but everything's been shut down."

"I believe Ship is distracted," Spock stated, holding a palm against Ship's wall, "and has consciously chosen to place everything on pause."

"Distracted by what?" Scotty asked.

"Shea," Picard replied. "She transported back. Ship has her here somewhere."

"I can scan for her presence with the auxiliary controls," Data reported and began the process. After a brief delay, he said, "I have located her energy signature on the forward lower deck, near the bulkhead. Correction, _inside_ the bulkhead."

"Inside? Is she all right?"

Data nodded. "Life signs are within acceptable ranges."

"Ship! Report!" Picard called out again. Still no response. Then Bleton was before him blinking rapidly and waving his arms. Of course, Ship wasn't helping Picard understand. "When are we going to have someone around here who can translate Ketlinese besides Ship? This is completely unacceptable."

Scotty came over. "I've been learning. Can't get the nuances yet, but I get the gist of it usually."

"Good. What is he saying?"

"Basically, I hope you're happy now."

Picard sighed. "No, Mr. Bleton, I am far from happy. I was hoping you might have something a little more helpful to contribute."

Bleton responded with more blinking and hand gestures.

"He wants to know where those hormone suppressants are that Julian promised us," Scotty said.

"Good question." Picard tapped his com link. "Doctor, we need those suppressants."

"Didn't expect to be working in the dark here, but I'm nearly done," Bashir replied. "I plan to inject them directly into Ship's reproductive system."

"Would that be anywhere near the bulkhead?" Picard asked.

"Yes. I'm surprised you knew that."

"Lucky guess. How soon can you be ready?"

"Give me another five or ten minutes."

"Make it three. We'll meet you there."

"I'll do my best."

Picard almost told him he expected better than that, but restrained himself. He turned to Data, "You need to monitor things from here, I assume?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well, the rest of you, with me," he told them and headed for the ladder tubes, knowing the turbolift would be offline under emergency power. When he reached the ladder, he started to step onto the rungs when Scotty touched his shoulder.

"You might want to let Bleton go ahead," he suggested. "He's a lot faster than we are."

Picard nodded and Bleton scooted past, grabbed the rails, pivoted head down and scuttled out of view like a four-limbed green spider. Picard followed him down. When he stepped off again at the bottom level, he headed toward the bulkhead. Scotty was at his heels and Spock was just behind.

"Oh, dear, will you look at that now," Scotty said as they got closer. "The walls in here are all inflamed." He frowned and shook his head. "This can't be good."

Bleton was already there scurrying about, making worried faces and blinking away as he poked at the puffy reddened walls. Spock stepped forward and placed his fingers on the swollen surface and closed his eyes. He inhaled abruptly, then stepped away and opened his eyes again. Picard looked at him questioningly.

"I would have to characterize Ship's current mental condition as being in a deep state of arousal," Spock stated.

Picard nodded grimly at having his suspicions confirmed. He stood with the others, waiting for Bashir, trying to be patient, and not let his worried mind focus too intently on what might be happening to Shea trapped somewhere within those inflamed tissues. He still couldn't make contact with her. Data had said her vital signs were good, so he had to believe she would be all right once they got her out.

"My, my…" Julian commented in amazement as he approached. "So this is what estrus looks like on the inside. Makes you feel like a microbe, doesn't it?" He slipped a long tubular shaped bag off his shoulder and set it onto the ground, then withdrew a fine needle from it nearly as long as he was tall. "This should reach our target."

"Be careful with that," Picard cautioned. "You don't want to hit Shea."

Bashir stared at him, then looked at the red walled bulkhead. "She's inside there?"

Picard nodded, "She is. Take whatever precautions necessary."

Bashir set the needle aside. "You might have mentioned it earlier." He pulled out his tricorder and ran it over the face of the wall until he saw what he was looking for. "There she is. Just like you said. This is incredible. Looks like their symbiotic relationship has risen to a whole new level. My, my…" he said again, smiling now as he continued to look at the tricorder.

"Can you move a bit faster? We need to get her out of there and Ship functioning normally again," Picard told him.

"That's assuming she wants to come out," Bashir said, and started to chuckle. "Looks like she's doing just fine in there."

"This is not a laughing matter, Doctor," Picard scolded him.

"Captain, if you can't see the humor in this, there's just no helping you."

"Your inappropriate sense of humor aside, can you fix this or not?"

"That's what we're about to find out." Bashir picked up the extraordinarily long needle balancing it in one hand while he scanned the wall with his tricorder in the other. "Good thing you told me she was in there. I might have skewered her right through her belly. She's definitely in the way, but I think I can manage if I go in at an angle… like so." He inserted the needle and pushed it in until only a small end remained exposed. "Yes. Right in the gonads." He pulled a syringe from his bag and attached it to the exposed end of the needle with a soft click. The syringe emptied automatically. He removed it and replaced it with another. "I have ten of these," he told them as he continued to remove and replace the syringes. "Should be enough. Assuming this treatment works, I should be able to maintain Ship's hormone levels with simple hyposprays after this." He carefully withdrew the needle and backed away. "Now we wait and see. Shouldn't be long."

Within a few moments, Picard thought he could see the red inflammation fading a bit. Bashir nodded as he looked at his tricorder readouts.

"It's working," he confirmed.

The walls slowly returned to a dark textured gray tone, and the swelling receded so that the walls looked vertically flattened again. The overhead lights came on, and the engines hummed to life.

"Ship, report," Picard ordered.

"All systems functioning, my Captain. I hope you weren't overly concerned."

"A bit." Picard breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you're back to yourself, Ship."

"As am I. That was… unsettling."

"Ship, I believe you have Shea trapped in your bulkhead. Please release her."

"She's not trapped. She can exit whenever she likes. She's simply resting there now."

"Are you blocking communication?" Picard asked, still unable to establish a mental link.

"No, my Captain. If she refuses to answer, that is entirely up to her."

"She needs to come out. I need to talk to her."

"Do you wish to threaten her with leaving again?"

Picard exhaled audibly. Of course, he had known his playing that card would have consequences.

"Please assure her that I have no such intention. I simply needed her to stop what she was doing. I didn't know how else to get her attention."

"That was hurtful, my Captain. And stopping mid-way was painful. I have helped her, and she'll be all right, but she isn't ready to see you or anyone else yet. I recommend letting her recover where she is. She'll come out when she's ready."

"Very well," Picard said, his voice subdued. While he was relieved to know she was uninjured, he also felt sadly deflated and responsible for this latest debacle. He should never have left her alone on the Enterprise. He looked at the others. "I suggest we all return to our stations."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 - The Logical Approach

Rather than going to his science station on the Bridge, Spock returned to Engineering, and took a seat next to Data. He sat with his fingers pyramided, staring ahead in silent reflection, waiting as Data returned control to the Bridge for automated operations again. Upon completion of his task, Data turned toward him in curiosity.

"Mr. Data, I believe it is time we engaged in a frank discussion," Spock stated.

"Certainly. I assume you have a particular topic in mind."

"The topic is why everything and everyone on board this vessel, including the vessel itself, seem to revolve around the needs of a single individual."

"I can see why one might think that," Data conceded. "However, I prefer to think of ourselves as a cooperative endeavor, addressing the needs of each of us in turn. You have joined us at a time, when Shea is requiring a greater proportion of attention and supervision, but I assure you that this is a temporary situation."

"Is it? The temporal distortions affecting her are monitored on an ongoing basis, are they not?"

"That is true. D's interest in her is a continual threat."

"Before Ship was distracted, I reviewed the records of your experiences on that nameless planet. Prior to the death of her previous corporeal form and rebirth in her current one, her transformation into a molecularly dense entity, which the locals called their Demon Goddess, was particularly troubling. Have you seen any recurrence of this ability to interphase with alternate realities?"

"As yet, we have not. However, it has occurred to us that it could re-emerge."

"And the possibility that she could change into this entity again is a risk you're willing to take?"

"We believe the risk to be warranted under the circumstances."

"By circumstances you are referring to the dispute between D and the Q Continuum. Apparently, you believe you can influence its outcome by influencing her."

"We provide companionship, guidance and support. I prefer not to characterize such acts of personal loyalty as influence."

"Fascinating," Spock pronounced, studying the android. "You see yourself as 'personally' loyal to her?"

"Shea is my friend."

"The disabling effect she can have on the mind of a human male is well documented, but I did not expect that an artificial life form would be similarly affected."

"There is no disability involved," Data said. "Perhaps the disability is yours if you cannot recognize a friend when you find one."

Spock raised a single eyebrow in response. "You actually sound offended."

"I am offended," Data confirmed. He cocked his head at him. "It is my understanding that you once considered her a friend as well. Have you not chosen to join our crew in order to renew that friendship?"

"I have joined this crew for the purpose of solving a mystery to prevent a devastating conflict between powerful competing interests. The fact that it involves someone with whom I was once acquainted, has no bearing. Clearly, unbiased rational assessment of this situation is severely lacking among your crew. It is most fortunate that I am here to assist."

"I do not accept your opinion of this crew's rationality as valid. Nevertheless, your assistance is welcome."

"We shall leave it at that then," Spock replied. "I would like to review the information you have collected on these temporal distortions, and attempt to isolate the energy signatures of the parties involved."

"An excellent suggestion. I have been running a series of diagnostic analyses of the readings for that very purpose and am happy to share the results. Please follow me."

Data led Spock to his personal quarters, where he had a series of four computer stations set up. "These stations are independent of Ship's main computers," Data explained. "They are dedicated to monitoring all spatial and temporal distortions, recording energy readouts of all life forms in the vicinity, and running diagnostics looking for repeating patterns. Please feel free to peruse the programs, data, and diagnostic results. I must return to the Bridge now, but you are welcome to remain here if you wish."

"Thank you, Mr. Data. It appears you have made an excellent start."

Data opened his mouth slightly to object to the word 'start', then thought better of it. Instead, he chose diplomacy. "I look forward to discussing it with you," he said, and left Spock behind staring intently at the monitors.

Picard sat in his ready room, pondering recent events and avoiding the task laying directly ahead of him. He knew he should contact the Enterprise and try to talk to Will and Deanna to see what damage had been done to them as a result of Shea's unsupervised visit, but he was dreading it. What would he say? What could he say? Maybe it would be better to simply let them deal with this on their own. What help could he offer anyway? But in his heart, he knew silence was simply cowardice.

"Ship, hail the Enterprise on a closed channel. I want to speak to either Captain Riker or Commander Troi, privately."

"Yes, my Captain. Hailing now."

After a brief delay, Deanna's face appeared on the monitor before him. She looked so emotionally ragged and tearstained that he had to look away.

"You stopped her, didn't you?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'm sorry it went as far as it did. I should have been paying closer attention. I realize now that I never should have left her there alone in the first place. I thought she was stable for the time being, and didn't anticipate that you and Will would…" he left the rest unsaid.

Deanna shook her head. "How could we have been so naïve? That last night, she was so generous and kind, that I actually thought she cared about us. I thought she could be trusted, that she wouldn't take advantage. I should have known better."

"I can understand why you and Will might have wanted to re-experience that night with her. The problem is, on that particular night, she believed she was going to die and was saying goodbye. She's not leaving now."

"No, unfortunately. I thought she'd changed, but she hasn't. She's just as selfish and manipulative as ever. Frankly, Captain, I don't know how you can stomach being around her."

There it is, Picard thought, the old familiar accusation. He wanted to rise to Shea's defense and his own, but he knew Deanna was hurting, so he let it go by unchallenged. "How is Will doing?"

"Not well. Worf has assumed command for now. She hurt him, badly."

"I'm sorry, but trust me, Will is going to be fine. You both are. Just give it a little time. If it's any consolation, she's hurting too."

"There's not enough pain in this universe to pay her back for what she did."

"Deanna, please, I know you're upset, but the pain he's experiencing now isn't really Shea's fault. I forced her to cut him off. She was trying to give him what she thought he needed and wanted. I grant you it was inappropriate and would have resulted in an unworkable situation, which is why I put a stop to it, but that doesn't make it anything other than an expression of love on her part. I grant that she's complicated and difficult and occasionally frustrating as hell, but underneath it all she loves us. That includes you and Will."

"You don't really expect me to believe that."

"Yes, I do actually. You invited her in and she responded, wholeheartedly, just not in the way you anticipated."

"You're always making excuses for her. When are you going to face the fact that you're living with a monster?"

He felt his outrage taking over. "Deanna, if you like, you can blame me for leaving her there, for not anticipating your invitation and failing to warn you of the likely consequences. You can also blame yourselves for not thinking it through, for not consulting with me first and asking permission. Clearly Will went behind my back and now he's paying the price. There's plenty of blame to go around. The one I won't blame is Shea. She's in a vulnerable condition right now, which you well knew. If anybody tried to take advantage, I'd say it was the two of you."

Deanna inhaled abruptly and promptly terminated the connection.

"Well said, my Captain," Ship congratulated him.

Picard leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "I'm not so sure. I wanted to mend fences, not tear more down. I was too rough on her."

"Not in my opinion."

"Should I be rough on you as well?" Picard asked. "Did you take advantage?"

Ship didn't answer him for several seconds. "She called me to transport her and I did. She was upset, in pain… I tried to assist her."

"I'm sure you meant well," Picard replied. "Is she ready to come out yet?"

"No, my Captain. May I share your communication to Deanna with her? It might help."

"Very well." He considered his options for a moment and came to a decision. He exited his Ready Room and took his seat on the Bridge next to Data. "Hail the Enterprise."

"Enterprise here," Worf responded and his fierce dark face appeared on the screen before them.

"Mr. Worf, it appears we've worn out our welcome. We're taking our leave of you."

"We still need to complete the debriefings," Worf stated. "Shea has not been debriefed."

"On the contrary. I understand Counselor Troi debriefed her personally. Or it might have been Will. But definitely one or the other _de-briefed_ her," he stated, putting emphasis on the word. He noted with some satisfaction, the reddening of Worf's complexion. "Till next we meet, Mr. Worf…" Picard slashed the air with his hand to end the transmission.

"Set course for Starbase Eleven, standard warp speed," he ordered.

It would take two days to reach their destination. He'd been there before, on a number of occasions. Starbase Eleven was a frequent stop for Federation vessels. Picard intended to trade for supplies, pick up a pair of new recruits he knew to be waiting there for them, and enjoy a day or two planetside along with the rest of the crew.

Of course, the Redemption would have to stay cloaked in orbit, while his people visited the base under assumed names. Not that they wouldn't be recognized. It was all very wink, wink. Picard and his crew pretended to sneak around Federation territory in order to preserve their reputation as an outlawed rogue ship. He found it quite amusing. The best part was that he seldom had to make small talk with Starfleet admirals, and was no longer expected to attend their social functions. He saw those he wanted to see and felt no pressure to endure the company of those he didn't. A couple days of shore leave would be welcome, and chances were that by then, another assignment would be lying on his desk.

"Starbase Eleven? That'll be a nice change of pace," Bashir said as he entered the Bridge. "Did you know they have the best sushi restaurant in the galaxy?"

"I'll keep that in mind," Picard said as the doctor plopped into the empty chair beside him. "So how's our very large patient doing?"

"Ship's fine. Back to gender neutral and holding steady."

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

"No problem there. It's my other patient I'm worried about. It's too bad hormone suppressants don't work for her. Normally, imbalances like that are a such a simple fix."

"Normally," Picard acknowledged with a frown. "So, please tell me you're finally making some progress in your research."

"Depends on your definition of progress. I have a boatload of new information I'm pulling together, running analyses. I've isolated some previously unidentified genomes, and am cross-referencing with known life forms. On the positive side, I have already found several new matches, but I may still be a long ways from coming up with an effective treatment. I haven't been able to determine how to counteract her recuperative powers in this one area without shutting down her entire system. Not that I have a way to do either at this point." He shook his head. "I wanted a challenge and certainly got one. Sometimes I'm not sure the answer lies in her biological makeup at all. A lot of it may be in her energy source, not my area of expertise."

"It is mine, however," Data stated. "Mr. Spock is currently analyzing the collected data. Perhaps he will offer some new insight."

"Let's hope so," Picard replied. "Because right now, despite a year's reprieve, we're little better off than we were before. And we all know how badly it went the last time."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 - One Thing Leads to Another

Sakonna walked along the hold in the lower level supervising the supply personnel taking inventory. As Logistics Officer, she had responsibility for purchasing, and transport of supplies. She had plenty of experience dealing with vendors, pitting them against each other in bidding wars to secure the best price. She knew how to wheel and deal, whether buying or selling. Ferengi's were the most challenging with their eye always on profit, not that she found them intimidating - just annoying and difficult. She wouldn't have to be quite so on guard at Starbase Eleven. The Federation-sponsored base kept most items at fixed prices based on availability and actual costs of production, plus shipping, of course.

Earth prided itself on its equalitarian non-monetary time-and-effort based contribution system, and Starfleet had its credit chips, but out among the stars, gold pressed latinum had become the most common basis for exchange. The galaxy could thank the Ferengis for that. The Redemption paid up front, and their resources were more than adequate. To make sure it stayed that way, Sakonna was meticulously careful to spend wisely, and sell carefully. She checked the PADD in her hands, making entries as her people reported specialty items that needed to be re-ordered. For some reason, Cardassian herbs seemed to be in short supply. A wet sucking sound caught her attention and she looked to her right to see the bulkhead wall splitting vertically and Shea sliding out of it. The wall closed behind her and she stood there naked, and disheveled.

"Well, that was certainly repulsive. I'm not going to get that image out of my head any time soon." Sakonna tapped her communicator as watched Shea retrieve an emergency blanket and wrap it around herself. "Sakonna here, Captain. Guess who's come out of hiding?"

Picard came back immediately, "Is she all right?"

Sakonna walked toward Shea and stopped a few feet away. "Ugh." She covered her nose and squinted. "The captain wants to know if you're all right."

"Just peachy."

"She's her usual sardonic self. Except she smells like a Vulcan bog pig," Sakonna reported.

"In that case, would you please escort her to her quarters."

"If I must." Sakonna pointed for her to go ahead. "Keep your distance so I can breathe. How could you tolerate being inside there?"

"Wasn't so bad… kind of relaxing actually, like a sauna. Hot, humid - good for the skin. You should try it sometime," Shea told her.

"I think not." When she had to step into the turbolift with Shea, Sakonna cursed in Vulcan, and covered her nose and mouth again. The lift paused at the next level, and the doors opened to reveal a young blonde haired man, one of the new recruits working under Data in Operations.

He stepped in, took a deep breath and his blue eyes opened wide. "What is that?"

Sakonna jabbed a thumb at the woman standing behind her.

He looked at Shea and a gigantic smile lit up his face. "Damn, you smell good. What are you wearing?" He went to move closer, but Sakonna blocked him, jabbed the door controls to reopen and shoved him back out. "Hey!" he protested.

"Take the next one," she ordered. The doors closed and the lift moved upward again.

"Guess not everyone thinks I stink," Shea said quietly.

"Apparently not. Which explains why Captain Picard thought you needed an escort."

When the doors opened on the main level, Sakonna peered out to make sure the corridor was clear. "All right, let's go."

The two women hurried down the empty hall and entered Shea's quarters.

"There, safe and sound," Sakonna said. "I'd take a shower if I were you. Crewman Yates would have been all over you if I hadn't been there."

"I can fight my own battles, thank you."

"Yes, but would you?"

Shea sighed. "It's probably a good thing you were there."

"You're welcome," Sakonna said, and frowned at her disapprovingly. "I can't imagine what it's like to have so little control over yourself on a continuing basis. Have you considered studying the discipline of logic?"

"Logic isn't the issue. This isn't emotionally driven. I'm not upset, or depressed, or lonely, or insecure. I don't need male attention to feel better about myself. It's a chemical addiction, plain and simple."

"If you say so," Sakonna said. "You'd better get in that shower. I can't hang around all day chaperoning you. I have work to do, and a personal appointment to prepare for."

"A personal appointment? As in a date with a man you want to attract?"

"That is not your business."

Shea smiled. "Interested in a little experiment?"

"Such as?"

Shea whipped off the emergency blanket, and wiped herself down. She then placed it into a sealed bag and tossed it to Sakonna. "Tuck a piece of that in your underwear and see what happens."

"What makes you think I need any help."

"I don't. But you said you couldn't imagine what it's like for me. Wear that and maybe you'll find out."

"Disgusting, but also intriguing, " Sakonna examined the bag. "Perhaps I shall."

"Let me know how it goes," Shea said. "I'd love to hear how you deal with my problem."

"Better than you, I'm sure."

"We'll see," Shea laughed. She turned away, headed for the bathroom, when the outer door opened. Picard came in part way, then stopped in his tracks.

"I was just about to get in the shower," she told him.

He cleared his throat and nodded, "Good idea."

Bag in hand, Sakonna raised her eyebrows at him and exited without comment. When Shea disappeared into the bathroom, Picard ordered the airscrubber on maximum. Within a few moments, he felt his heart rate return to normal. Shea stepped back into the room, and paused at the sound of the airscrubber and breeze it had whipped up.

"Sorry," she said, but didn't look at him. Instead, she went after a clean uniform.

"Hardly noticeable," he lied, noting that she neither smiled nor made a smart remark. He ordered the ventilation to return to normal and the humming sound ceased along with the breeze. So much lay unsaid, he hardly knew where to begin.

"I'm concerned about you," he said as he watched her dress.

"Here we go…"

"I know this is difficult. We tried to prepare, but obviously there were elements we failed to take into consideration, and the timing caught us by surprise. What happened with Ship and the incident on the Enterprise are unfortunate, but I don't think there's any long term damage. Ship seems fine now and as for Will and Deanna, I'm sure in time they come to recognize that they exercised poor judgment and bear equal responsibility."

She gathered up her boots and sat down on the bed. "Have you ever considered just locking me up?"

"No!" he objected, upset that she would even suggest it. "That was never an option. You would suffer terribly."

"Maybe you should choose safety over sentiment," she said as she tugged her boots on viciously.

"Don't be melodramatic. You're not a danger to anyone. We had a couple unforeseen glitches, that's all. Besides, most of us have been looking forward to this time. Myself included, as you well know."

"And yet you threatened to leave me."

He sighed heavily. "I needed to get your attention. To make you stop. That's all. It was an empty threat." He saw the look of skepticism in her eyes, so he sat next to her and took her hand in his. "I'm not leaving you. You know better than that."

"I'm not sure what I know. Right now, my judgment is obviously questionable."

"Then rely on mine."

She looked him in the eyes and finally nodded. "All right. So, how should I handle this then? Should I send an apology to them? Pretend it never happened?"

"Let's allow time to heal the worst of it, then we'll try to make amends. I think-"

Their door buzzed and Ship identified the visitor as Dr. Julian Bashir. Picard felt like telling him to go away.

"Come," he responded at last.

Bashir strode in. "Oh good, you're still vertical. No coupling you two until you hear what I have to say."

"You really need to work on your tact, Doctor," Picard said.

Bashir smiled. "Just thought you'd like to know that Shea is ovulating. If you don't want little ones running around here, you might want to take precautions." He tossed Picard a small box.

Picard caught it and looked at the label. "Condoms? A little primitive, don't you think?"

"You can't rely on injections, which I think you already know from past personal experience. I'm betting your little guys are swimming again."

"Why am I ovulating?" Shea asked. "I've made no such decision."

"Not consciously perhaps," he replied. "The trouble is you're not fully mature yet, which means your subconscious is in charge, or Captain Picard's is. Can't say which. That's the trouble with this relationship you two have. All I can tell you is that somebody in this room definitely wants a baby. Good luck figuring it out." Bashir waved good-by and scooted back out the door.

"What were you saying about my being able to rely on you?" she asked Picard.

"What makes you think it's my judgment in question?"

"Maybe because that's how I got pregnant the first time. You were mourning your nephew's passing- thinking about how there was no one to inherit the Picard legacy. And now we come across the man who helped me raise your son. Are your thoughts straying again to what might have been?"

"I suppose it has crossed my mind," he admitted, giving voice to thoughts he'd been trying to suppress. "When I see Spock, knowing that my son called him father, I can't help think about what I missed. But that doesn't mean we're ready to start a family - far from it. There are far too many unknowns."

"There are always unknowns. What's really bothering you?"

"Shea, our relationship is unconventional to say the least. Deep down, I am a traditionalist at heart. I would never choose to have a child out of wedlock."

"You're not actually suggesting marriage, are you?"

"What?" The idea took Picard by such surprise, it stole his words away. "No, I… that's.. that's not what I meant."

"There's no need to panic. I understand. I'm certainly not the kind of girl you bring home to mother and father… not that you have either anymore, nor any family for that matter."

"No, not anymore. Just some second cousins I barely know, and of course, my brother's widow." He thought of her now in that big empty house, and wondered how lonely she must feel. Then he focused on what Shea had said… _not the kind of girl_. She thought he was ashamed of her.

"How could you think that?" he asked aloud. "That's not it at all." No, it really was about the unknowns, his fear that she would be taken from him and that he would be powerless to stop it. He didn't want to marry her or start a family with her simply because he was afraid. As he recognized the core truth, he rebelled against it immediately. He had never allowed fear to rule his life. When he had wanted something, he'd gone after it, regardless of the risk. "I am far from ashamed. You are incredibly beautiful, brilliant, loving, and generous. I think you're amazing and I'm proud to be with you."

"Okay, okay, you don't need to cover up with flowery compliments. I said I understand."

"I'm not sure that you do." He frowned at her for a moment then made a decision. "Still trust my judgment?"

"Mostly. Why?"

"I think we should get married."

"No, you don't. You just said that wasn't what you meant."

"Shea, I want children and I have it on good authority that you are an excellent mother. You've raised seven, some under extremely challenging circumstances, and all of them have not only survived, they've prospered. You have every right to be proud of that. I've thought about the possibility of marriage for awhile now, but the time never seemed right. I need to stop waiting for the perfect moment to arrive, and make the moment we have perfect instead. This is that moment. So yes, I want to marry you very much, and have children with you. I would be honored, delighted to be married to you." He saw the look of incredulity on her face. "Trust me. I am absolutely serious about this."

"You know I can't change just because of marriage certificate. I'll still have to visit the others."

"Yes, I know. I accepted that a long time ago. That's not what this is about. It's about taking an oath to each other before witnesses where we formally commit to remain together, and to raise our children in a legally sanctified family unit. It's for their peace of mind, and to be honest, for my own."

"So you want me to make this promise to you publically, on the record?"

"Yes. Exactly. So what say you?"

She studied him for a long moment before answering. "Seems like you should just take my word for it, but if this is your preference, then yes, I'll make these promises to you in front of whomever you like."

"Good." Picard smiled and tossed the box across the room. "Then we won't be needing those."

"Wait, did you say children, as in more than one?"

"I'm thinking two, a boy and a girl, preferably. I'll make arrangements with the authorities on Starbase Eleven to marry us. Just a small civil ceremony. Nothing elaborate."

"Did I just hear Jean-Luc propose?" a male voice asked and Q popped into the room with them. "Oh, be still my beating heart...not that I have one, of course."

Picard stood to face their unwelcome guest. "What do you want Q?"

"To help celebrate this momentous occasion with you. After all, we're family."

"We're not family. You tried to absorb Shea into the Continuum. She died because of you."

"Oh boo hoo. She's back again, isn't she? Good as new. No harm done."

"You're very cavalier with other people's lives," Picard said.

"Oh come now, let's not bicker about the past. It's a new day, a glorious new day. You're getting married. I know exactly what kind of wedding you'd like to have, and I'm just the omnipotent being to make it happen. I was the one who introduced you to each other, after all, so it's only fitting."

"No, absolutely not," Picard objected.

"Nonsense, it's no bother at all. I'm happy to do it. One question - is the bride planning on wearing white? I know it's a little controversial in your case, but then you've never worried much about convention, have you? Oh, why not? Let's go with white. You'll be a vision. See you soon."

"No!" Picard yelled, but Q had already vanished. Picard and Shea exchanged worried looks. "Leave it to Q to turn a happy moment into a disaster in the making," Picard said bitterly.

"Oh, you're such a worrier, Jean-Luc," Q's disembodied voice came in response. "You forget how well I know you. I promise your wedding will be exactly the one you've always wanted. Think of it as my wedding gift to you both. Leave it all to me."


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note: The reader is strongly warned that the violent nature of this chapter may be offensive and disturbing in content.**

* * *

Chapter 14 - Behind the Mirror 

Picard continued on course for Starbase Eleven despite Q's sudden appearance and threat to take over their wedding. One never knew for certain what Q would do or when, so there was nothing for them to do but proceed with normal operations as planned. The Redemption arrived without incident and Picard made an appointment for a civil wedding ceremony in the morning, hoping fervently that Q would stay out of it. In the meantime, his plan this evening was to attend a very old musical show scheduled in Ship's Recreation Lounge. Data had gone to a great deal of trouble to locate and hire a professional entertainment group known for this particular performance, and had been adamant that he and Shea attend. He checked the time, then shut down the monitor in his ready room and exited.

"You have the Bridge," he informed Spock, who nodded in acknowledgment. Picard headed for the lounge, expecting Data and Shea to meet him there as arranged.

#

When Shea's door buzzed, she answered it to find Data standing there just as expected.

"Wow, you look nice," she commented, seeing him in his formal attire. "Very handsome."

"Thank you. I am favorably impressed by your appearance as well."

"Thank you," she said, and curtsied in her dress.

"I've been looking forward to this performance," Data said. "I selected the content especially with you in mind. Are you familiar with the storyline?"

She figured he was accessing his programming routine for small talk and concentrating on the casual cadence of his speech patterns. "No, not really. Doesn't it have something to do with a disfigured man hiding out in the Paris Opera House?"

"Yes. But it's much more than that. It represents the concept of light versus dark. A healthy love versus a twisted one. The phantom behind the mirror represents a sinister presence who in his obsession with a young ingénue kidnaps her regularly and forces her to do his bidding. Does this sound familiar to you?"

"Not particularly…" she replied feeling uneasy. She tried to change the focus of their conversation. "By the way, nice use of contractions there."

"Thank you. It's becoming more natural for me," he said and smiled slightly. "I've listened to recordings of this music," he continued, "but have never seen it performed live. I'm hoping it may assist you in recalling some of your suppressed memories."

Suddenly the idea of seeing this performance was no longer appealing. "Data, I know you're trying to help, but…"

"Yes, I am. Shall we go?" he asked and held out his arm for her. She stared at him uncertainly, but then reached for him.

#

_ Before she could take his offered arm, Data was gone and she was flying, falling. She crashed onto a cold rigid floor, her naked flesh hitting hard enough to punch the air from her lungs. She struggled for breath, gasping and disoriented, then a hand pulled her head up roughly. As she looked into Derek's ice blue eyes, all her suppressed memories of him returned in a shocking deluge._

_ "Welcome back," he said. He let go and she rolled over to see him standing there, bare-chested, looking down at her. Beyond him, she could see nothing but a cloudy mist. Apparently, he didn't want any distractions this time. Their last encounter had involved a demented circus. She shuddered at the memory. _

_"On your knees," he commanded._

_"Go to hell," she said as usual, hoping this time might be different, but even as the words left her lips, she was doing as she was told, pulling herself into a kneeling position. She mentally cursed him, and the power he held over her. He pulled her arms behind her and locked her wrists together with a thought, binding them stronger than any handcuffs ever could. He caressed her hair, running his fingers through her living tendrils, sending chills down her spine. It felt so good, she hated it. She didn't want anything he did to her to feel good. But she didn't want it to hurt either. And sooner or later, it would hurt. Her shivering increased both from the sensory input of his gentle stroking and her fear of what lay ahead._

_"Forehead to the floor," he told her casually, and she complied in spite of herself. _

_His hands stroked down her back, then lifted her hips high exposing her completely. She wanted to pull away, but his intent pinned her in place while he worked at her and her breathing quickened. She was nearly on the verge, when he withdrew his touch abruptly denying her the satisfaction. She knew he enjoyed controlling her like this, making her dance to his music. He stood behind her and found entry, making her gasp and groan, then he changed his size and shape, so that what had been momentarily tolerable was no longer. She gritted her teeth and held on in silence, knowing her cries would only excite him more, and it would get worse, much worse. _

_ He folded her in half, pressing her to the floor. This was his signature move, intended to break her spirit, and dominate her completely. Recognizing it, didn't make it any less effective. He would pound her relentlessly until she finally surrendered, begging him to stop, promising him anything, if he would just please stop. If she made the mistake of pretending, of giving in before she had reached a sufficient level of anguish, he would punish her until she passed out, then he would wake her and start over. She couldn't deceive him or trick him, and he made sure she knew it. So she simply hung on as long as she could, until her insides burned beyond the limit of her sanity. _

_ She finally cried out, a wordless sobbing scream. He paused waiting for it. _

_"Please," she begged. "Please, please stop."_

_ He pulled her up, so he could see her face. "Are you sure you've had enough? I wouldn't want to disappoint."_

_She nodded, breathing hard, tears streaming. "Yes, please. Enough."_

_Watching her closely, he pushed in all the way again, very slowly. She arched against him and cried out. He held her there, listening to her sobbing, as if waiting for just the right note. _

_"All right," he said, satisfied at last. _

_He withdrew from her making her cry out again, and let her go. She collapsed like a rag, but managed to protect her face from hitting the floor again. He flipped her over and pulled her close so that her legs fell on either side of him, then began stroking her. In defense, she automatically reached down without thinking. He struck her hard then continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. She didn't dare try to stop him again. He rolled her tender flesh under his fingers, knowing exactly where to massage and how it would feel to her. _

_After all, he had designed every part of her anatomy to his own specifications. He knew where every nerve ending was located and just how sensitive it was, where pleasure ended and pain began, and how to move back and forth between the two, making her writhe in ecstasy one moment and cry out in agony the next. She saw him smiling, as he pushed her from one extreme to the other. The look on his face was so disturbing, she closed her eyes and simply tried to breathe through it all and to comfort herself with the belief that he wouldn't kill her. Torture her, yes, but not kill her. Apparently, he enjoyed this too much to end her and deny himself the pleasure of dominating her over and over whenever it suited him. _

_Only when she was here with him in this other reality could she remember how he abducted her like this and what happened when he did. Each session seemed to go on for hours without pause for rest or recovery. And each time, she felt as if she would die of it. Instead, he always returned her to the exact same moment in time and space from which she'd been taken, leaving her with no physical clue or memory of the event. All she ever carried back with her from these terrifying encounters was a vague sense of unease, and a splitting headache. _

_Data knew these displacement events were taking place and had figured out how to document her absences, but no one had any idea how to stop them, nor what transpired during them. At her own request, the subject was never discussed around her. Derek held all the power. The only ones who could possibly end this were D's progeny, the Q. She'd had her chance to align with them and refused, believing them no better. How she regretted her choice in this moment, now that she remembered. Suddenly, Derek stopped rocking her between pain and pleasure, leaving only the pain. _

_"Do I have your full attention?" he asked as it hurt more and more. "You know how I hate it when your mind wanders."_

_"Yes, yes. I'm paying attention," she hissed through clenched teeth. He let up and started rocking her again between the two sensations, leaving her breathless, but able to withstand both extremes. _

_"You shouldn't test my patience like that. I enjoy rewarding you, but if you don't appreciate it, I won't do it at all."_

_She knew she'd better be grateful fast. "I appreciate it. Really, I do," she managed to say between ragged breaths. _

_He chuckled softly. "You're such a bad liar. You hate me touching you, unless, of course, I do this."_

_Suddenly she was climaxing under his hand as he shifted ever so slightly, playing her like a finely tuned instrument. He kept it going, making her spasm over and over, until she actually did feel grateful to him._

_"There, that's better, isn't it?" he said as he pushed her up another level, making her cry out in pleasure. He took her up higher again, then gently pushed himself into her, thickening just the right amount, finding the exact length she needed for maximum stimulation without discomfort. He held her close, kissing her gently, massaging her perfectly, taking her ever higher until finally the last of her resistance melted away. _

_"Who do you belong to?" he whispered. "Who do you love?"_

_"You," she moaned, lost in the euphoric haze he was creating in her body and mind. _

_"That's my girl," he said and just as she reached the ultimate peak of sweetness, he bit into her, raped her bloody and tore her apart…_

_ #_

What?" Shea blinked in an abrupt moment of confusion. Data was standing before her, with an arm extended, waiting.

"I inquired as to whether you were ready to go?" Data repeated. "Are you all right?"

She put a hand on Data's upper arm, either for his reassurance or her own. "Sorry. I just felt a little strange there for a second." She put her other hand to her forehead. "And now I seem to have a headache."

"Would you like to see Dr. Bashir?"

"No, no. It's… it's nothing, really. We should go. We don't want to be late," she waved a hand dismissively. "Jean-Luc hates it when I'm late."

Data stared at her. "As you wish. However, I must briefly stop by my quarters on the way."

"Sure, no problem."

As they walked together, Data said, "Do you recall what I told you of this play?"

"Yeah, course. Um, something about a man in a mask who's in love with opera in Paris."

He frowned in response.

Shea followed Data into his room and waited just inside while he walked up to one of his desk monitors, and viewed the screen.

"Running experiments?" she asked.

"Affirmative. I suspected there might be an update and I was correct."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I would not characterize it as good, but it is noteworthy."

"You know, I notice when you're especially focused on a problem, your contractions go away."

"Really?" he looked mildly surprised. "I was unaware of that. I shall pay closer attention." He walked toward her then held his arms outstretched before her. "May I?"

She scowled in confusion. "Captain Picard is expecting us."

"True. However, at the moment, I feel the need to offer you a comforting hug. May I?"

"Um, yeah, sure, I guess so."

He slipped his arms around her and held her close. As he held her, she felt a deep tension she hadn't really been aware of, slowly release, and to her surprise she felt like crying with no idea why. Must be the hormones, still out of balance. Her rational mind suppressed the unbidden emotion and she took deep cleansing breaths to push it away. She finally laughed to cover up her discomfort, and pulled back.

"Well, thanks for that. Shall we go now?"

"If you wish," he agreed. He let go and offered her his arm again. She took it, and hung on a little tighter than she meant to.

When they entered the lounge, the majority of seats had been filled, but she saw that Jean-Luc had saved them two empty chairs. She sat down beside him and Data sat next to her.

"You're late," Picard stated, even though the performers had yet to take the stage.

"Data wanted to give me a comforting hug," she said.

Picard scowled at her. "Why was that?"

She shook her head. "No idea, but it was a nice hug."

Picard looked past her to make eye contact with Data. Data nodded and Picard sighed heavily, then took her hand in his.

She glanced at him curiously, but then the musicians and singers arrived to fill the stage, pulling her attention away. As the play unfolded, she tried to follow the story, but for some reason she couldn't stay focused and the meaning evaded her. Finally, she gave up and simply enjoyed the music.

After the concert, while the audience members intermingled with the performers and congratulated them, Data found a discreet moment to approach Captain Picard.

"Captain, I would like to discuss an interesting development. I believe that for a very brief moment, Shea was aware that something unusual had occurred to her. She missed what I was saying and expressed feeling strange."

"That's a first."

"Exactly so. If spatial displacement should mesh with recall of the experience, she may have a breakthrough."

"And if she does, what then? Would remembering these experiences help or hurt?"

"Unknown. However, I believe you have often disparaged the concept that ignorance is bliss."

"There's certainly nothing blissful about it here, but it has at least allowed her to function."

"Agreed, but at what cost? I believe she is capable of functioning on a much higher level but that this repeated dampening of her memory, a sort of mental paralysis if you will, prevents it. It is..it's as if she were disabled."

"Disabled?" That was a word Picard never thought he would hear applied to a woman of such extraordinary talents and agility. But if Data said that these spatial displacements and accompanying memory losses were holding her back, he was probably correct. "I don't suppose you have any suggestions as to how we might help her make that breakthrough."

"Mr. Spock and I are looking into various possibilities."

"Such as?"

"Forgive me if I do not share that information with you."

Picard nodded reluctantly. Whatever he knew, might then be known to the Q and to D. Unlike Data, his human mind wasn't locked against them. "I understand. Do what you must, what you can. You have carte blanche on this matter."

"Thank you, sir."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15 - In Search of the Borg

After a full day in the infirmary under Dr. Crusher's care and another night's sleep with the help of a strong sedative, this morning Riker felt well enough to take the Captain's chair again. He hoped his marriage would bounce back too. He and Deanna were both feeling guilty and embarrassed by their shared poor judgment. He found it a little hard to look his wife in the eye, and noticed she was avoiding talking to him as well. Work was probably the best medicine for them both.

"Mr. Worf, before we drop out of warp drive, raise shields. If the Borg are anywhere in the area, I don't want them catching us with our…" he almost said, 'our pants down,' but stopped himself, "catching us unprepared."

"Yes, sir. Shields up, dropping to impulse," Worf confirmed. "This is the exact location where the Borg Ship was sighted."

The image onscreen showed nothing but empty space and the stars in the distance.

"I still show nothing on the long range scanners," reported Mr. Tuvok, their recent Vulcan addition to the Bridge.

"Are you sensing anything?" Riker asked Deanna.

"No. Nothing to indicate a hive mind," she replied.

He spoke to Engineering. "Geordi, are you picking up anything?"

"Yes, sir," Geordi replied, but checked his monitors again before continuing. "The sweeps are detecting trace radiation frequencies consistent with a Borg ship. It's a good bet that one was here, but it's long gone now."

"All right. Lower shields," Riker ordered. "Can you determine a trajectory?"

"I'm trying, but I can't seem to pinpoint any clear direction. It's like they were wandering all over the place, circling, backtracking. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were lost."

"That seems most unlikely," Mr. Tuvok noted. "Borgs are excellent navigators."

"I'm just reporting what these trace patterns look like," Geordi replied.

Riker frowned, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I suppose they could be lost or more likely searching for something. Either way, they'll be looking for a familiar guide posts, and mapping the area, which means they probably won't have gone far. We'll search the area thoroughly."

The Enterprise began a methodical pattern of ever expanding circles covering more and more space. Whenever Geordi noted the presence of Borg trace radiation, Riker ordered them to reset their center and begin again. They continued to scan hour after hour. At the fifth hour, Geordi reported that the radiation signature was growing stronger, indicating a more recent presence.

"Captain, I have them on long range sensors," Mr. Tuvok reported. "It's definitely a Borg cube. I don't think they've seen us yet."

"All stop. Go to yellow alert. Send a message to Starfleet Command. We have a confirmed sighting."

"Message sent," Tuvok replied promptly.

"We'll keep our distance and try to figure out what they're up to. Are there any occupied planets or space stations in the area they might be targeting?"

"There is one Class M planet, but it shows no evidence of advanced life forms. A Romulan space station is four parsecs from here, just on the other side of the neutral zone. However, I see no indication that the Borg ship is headed in their direction either. Nor any direction, for that matter. They appear to be drifting. Energy readings are in the low range."

"Maybe the ship is damaged. That might explain the lack of direction."

"Should we move closer?" Worf asked.

"Not yet. Could be a trap. For now, we watch and wait."

For the rest of the day, that's what they did, neither ship approaching the other. Riker felt as if he were playing a game of chicken, or perhaps a staring game when the first one to blink loses. He and his officers bandied about theories of why the Borg ship continued sitting there. Borg didn't usually hesitate to attack. Perhaps the Cube ship was in some sort of stasis, or distress. Perhaps they were still unaware of the Enterprise's presence, or unable to react. Or maybe the Borg were just waiting for them to move closer before striking. Why waste energy in the chase, if your prey will come to you? Riker decided he'd observed passively long enough. Time to push a little.

"Launch a probe," he ordered. "Let's knock on their door with a very long stick."

The probe reached its target in fifteen minutes without meeting any resistance and attached itself to the Borg ship's outer shell.

"Report's coming in now, " Geordi announced. "The ship seems to be operating in an energy saving mode. Life support is on full, but otherwise, everything is down to minimal levels."

"Let's move in for a closer look, nice and slow. Keep an eye on those energy readings. If they start powering up, I want to know about it."

The Enterprise moved ahead at quarter impulse.

"Still no change," Geordi reported.

"Stop when we get within transporter range," Riker ordered. When they repositioned, Riker ordered Worf to lead an away team. Within minutes, Worf and a security team of three transported aboard the Borg ship.

"We are on board," Worf reported in. "This looks like any other Borg ship we've encountered. Most of the drones are in their stations. From here, I can see about a dozen moving around. None have taken notice of us so far."

"Good. Try not to bring attention to yourselves. Do you see any evidence of damage?"

"Negative. I do notice that many of the drone stations are empty. Perhaps they have a shortage of personnel."

"If so, they'll be looking for replacements. Watch yourselves."

"Yes, sir." Worf moved gingerly through the Borg ranks, careful not to touch any of them, nor any of the equipment. Being a nonthreatening element was essential. To his right, he noticed a Borg drone looking at him. He froze in place. The drone walked toward him.

"I have been noticed," he reported, and drew his phaser. The drone stopped a few feet away, looked him up and down, then turned aside and walked away again. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Apparently, I have passed inspection. The drone has moved on."

Worf noticed another drone staring at Ensign Thomas Boyers, who stared back tensely before the drone moved away. Worf nodded at Boyers and they moved ahead again. "Boyers has passed inspection as well. We are making our way to the main frame."

"Uh oh, looks like it's my turn," Ensign Bennett Caruthers commented as still another Borg walked up to him. A moment later, the drone went back the way it had come."What are they looking for?"

"That is very good question," Worf stated. He paused as another drone approached them, passing him by, then on past Boyers and Caruthers to stand beside the fourth and final member of their boarding party. Ensign Sharon Murillo stood very still as the drone looked her up and down, then it turned away and she breathed in relief. Suddenly two drones leaned out from their stations along the side walls, grabbed her by the arms and lifted her into an empty station between them. She barely had time to cry out before the station arms locked her into place and her expression went blank. Worf immediately jumped to her aide and pulled her free, but he could see that it was already too late.

Riker heard Murillo scream over Worf's communicator. "Bring them back now!" he ordered. "Emergency medical to the transporter room."

He hurried there to find Dr. Crusher bent over Ensign Murillo's inert body, surrounded by the other members of the away team. Beverly shook her head sadly.

"There's nothing I can do," she told him. "Her cellular structure has completely imploded."

"I've never heard of a Borg weapon like that," Riker said.

"I don't think this was caused by a weapon. It's more like an overwhelming systemic infection."

"What happened over there?" Riker asked Worf.

Worf described the events, how each of them had been inspected and passed over, until it came to Murillo, who had been grabbed and put into an empty drone station.

"But she wasn't assimilated. She was killed. This isn't like anything we've encountered with the Borg before. And why her and not the three of you?"

"Well, there is one obvious difference," Beverly noted. "She's female."

Riker looked at Worf. "You said there were a lot of empty stations. Did you see any female drones?"

"It was not something I was looking for," Worf replied. "Drones all look the same to me."

Riker tapped his com badge. "Geordi, can you scan for female drones on that ship?"

"I think so. Just let me adjust the readouts from the probe. Okay, I have a total drone population of two thousand, six hundred and forty-two… and of those… hmmm. I can't seem to get a separate count of females. Must be something wrong here. Let me try something else." There was a long moment of dead air. "Sorry, Captain. It just keeps telling me there aren't any."

"No females," Riker concluded.

"I'd better get an autopsy done quick," Beverly stated. "If this is some sort of disease, I need to make sure it can't spread to our ship."

"You better have a male doctor handle the body," Riker told her.

She nodded in agreement. "Transport us both directly to quarantine," she requested, and the officer at the transporter station beamed them away.

Suddenly, the warning lights flashed and the ship's computer voice announced, "Intruder alert!"

Deanna's voice came over Riker's communicator. "There is a Borg on the Bridge staring at me."

"Shields up!" Riker yelled. He and Worf hurried to the Bridge, where they found the scene Deanna had described. A drone was standing in the middle of the Bridge, simply staring at her. He and Worf placed themselves between the drone and Deanna.

"State your purpose here," Riker demanded.

The drone's ocular implant refocused with a slight whirring sound, moving his attention to Riker. "We are in search of humanoid females. We have none," the drone told him.

"What happened to them?"

"One of your species released a neurolytic pathogen into the central collective."

"One of our species?"

"You would know her as Captain Janeway of the USS Voyager."

Mr. Tuvok rose to his feet. "I served with Captain Janeway on Voyager and I have no knowledge of any such pathogen."

"Irrelevant," the drone stated. "It exists and we are without females. Your species created the pathogen. You will assist us. Our continuation depends upon it."

"What makes you think we're interested in your continuation?" Riker asked. "The Borg have done nothing but try to destroy our civilizations and assimilate everyone they encounter. We oppose everything that you are."

"We do not destroy, we do not assimilate."

"You just tried to assimilate one of our females and now she's dead."

"She unexpectedly failed our test. It makes no sense that you would create a pathogen deadly to yourselves. Why would you do this?"

"Like Tuvok said, we have no knowledge of any pathogen," Riker told him firmly. "Mr. Worf, escort our guest to the brig."

Worf trained a phaser on the drone, hoping he could disable him if needed.

"You do not need a weapon. We will cooperate," the drone said. The drone followed Worf's instructions, and was soon locked in a holding cell several decks below. Dr. Crusher showed up shortly after to run a medical scan on the drone per Captain Riker's instructions.

"I'm Doctor Crusher," she told the Borg and set her medical bag down on the table. "I'm here to examine you, to look for that pathogen you mentioned." She hit the button latch on her bag for it to open. It stayed shut. "This thing keeps sticking."

The drone watched her struggle with the bag for several moments. "Are you having difficulty?" he asked.

She looked over at the drone behind the force field that was keeping it locked safely away from her. "This closure has been malfunctioning. Sometimes it works and sometimes…" she jabbed at it again unsuccessfully, "it doesn't."

"We can assist," said the drone then he stepped through the force field. Beverly gasped and jumped back. She was about to run, but the drone simply touched the bag so that it fell open, then turned and stepped back into the cell.

"So you can exit that cell whenever you like?"

"We choose to cooperate. We are in need of your assistance. We will cooperate."

"You're not like any Borg I've ever heard of."

"We are Pirate Borg."

"Pirate Borg?" Beverly almost laughed. "I suppose you fly the Jolly Roger?"

"We do not recognize that term."

"It's a flag that- never mind. Where did you came up with a name like that?"

"Our previous queen named us, before she replaced herself with another."

She paused considering the implication. "And now you don't have any females left at all?"

"The pathogen destroyed them."

"I see. Well, since you're willing to cooperate, I'd like to take blood and tissue samples from you to compare it with what I find in the autopsy of our crew member who was killed on your ship. Would you allow me to do that?"

The drone stuck his arm through the force field as if it weren't there. "Take what you wish."

When she finished taking her samples and completed her tricorder readings, Dr. Crusher reported to Captain Riker on the Bridge.

"That's one unusual Borg you have down in the brig there," she told him. "Are you aware he can walk through that force field at will?"

"What?" Worf exclaimed from his post in alarm, ready to take action.

"Don't worry," she told him. "He's not going anywhere. He wants to cooperate. He's hoping we'll reciprocate."

"Not likely," Riker replied.

"You might want to think about that. He's definitely not like any Borg we've encountered before. They call themselves Pirate Borg. He said their queen named them that."

"Pirate?" He scowled at the word. "You don't think there's any connection."

Beverly shrugged. "It's a pretty odd coincidence, don't you think?"

"Speaking of odd," Worf said. Riker turned to look and Worf was holding up a white envelope. "This just now appeared on my console."

Riker felt something in his hand and looked down at it. An envelope, just like the one Worf held. Suddenly everyone on the Bridge was holding one. He ripped his open and pulled out a rectangular card with silver lettering. He read it aloud:

_The Q Continuum  
request the honor of your presence  
at the marriage of Shea  
to Captain Jean-Luc Picard  
Saturday the sixth of May __at six o'clock in the evening, Paris, France, Earth._

_Reception to follow_

_Transportation and Appropriate Attire to be provided_

"What the hell is this? Some kind of joke?"

Deanna stared at the invitation she held too. "I don't think so. I'm feeling shocked reactions from all over the ship. I think everyone has received one of these."

"I have not," Tuvok noted.

"Have you ever met Shea or Captain Picard?" Beverly asked.

"I have not," he said again.

"Maybe that's why you're not on the guest list then."

"What is the date and time in Paris now?" Riker asked.

Worf checked his console, "May sixth, seventeen-hundred-thirty, or in civilian terms, five-thirty in the evening."

"According to this card, the wedding is just a half hour from now," Riker noted in alarm.

Deanna scowled. "I have a very bad feeling that we're all going to a wedding, whether we like it or not."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16 - One Wild Q Wedding

"You can't be serious," Picard said, looking across the city of Paris at the huge white edifice and spires of the Cathedral of Notre Dame. "No one gets married in Notre Dame. It's an historical monument."

"You sound just like your father," Q admonished him. "That's exactly what he said. Don't you remember?" Q waved a hand and an image of Picard as a young boy with his father played out before them.

_ "So did you enjoy seeing the Cathedral?" the man asked his boy._

_ "Yes. it's very beautiful, Father."_

_ The man seemed to sigh in disapproval. "Yes, yes, of course, but it's the history of it that's important. That's where Napoleon was crowned, and many of the Kings and Queens of France were married there as well."_

_ "Oh. They must have thought it was beautiful, too, then. If I ever get married, that's where I'd want to do it."_

_ His father shook his head. "You're talking impossible nonsense. They don't have weddings there anymore. It's been a public museum for hundreds of years. You'll have to pick somewhere else when the time comes."_

_ "But I like it there, with those big arched ceilings and all those stained glass windows. I'd invite everyone we know, the whole family, and all my friends."_

_ His father frowned. "You're so full of yourself, Jean-Luc. When are you going to learn you can't have everything you want?"_

The image faded, and Picard grimaced at the memory. "I was a child."

"So you don't think it's beautiful anymore?"

"Of course I do, but-"

"Then enjoy it," Q told him. "This is my gift. More than your father would ever have done for you."

Picard sighed. "There's just no stopping you, is there?"

"Now you're catching on."

#

Shea found herself in a large ornately decorated room with red velvet cushioned benches and a soaring gold embellished ceiling.

"Is this a church?" someone asked.

Shea spun around to see Deanna, Beverly, and Sakonna standing there wearing long pink dresses with ridiculously puffy sleeves.

"Oh no," Shea said in horror.

Beverly looked down at herself and at the others, then smiled wide. "Something tells me we're her bridesmaids."

Deanna's look of surprise turned to fury. "No, I am not wearing this!" She tore the dress off herself, threw it on the floor and stomped on it. "I am not your maid."

"Actually, I think being married would make you the matron of honor," Beverly said.

"Whatever! I'm not participating in any wedding of hers."

"Emotional histrionics serve no purpose," Sakonna told her. "Clearly, Q is orchestrating this. It would be wise of us to cooperate."

Shea sighed. "I'm sorry, Deanna. We didn't plan for this to happen. You know how Q is, once he gets an idea in his head."

"So this is all Q's doing?" Deanna asked. "He's forcing you two to get married?"

"Well, no, not exactly. I mean Jean-Luc did propose, but..."

Deanna shook her head in disgust.

"But we were going to have a quick ceremony on Starbase Eleven," Shea continued, trying to ignore the look on Deanna's face. "Just the two of us. Not all this. Next thing we know, Q's in charge and you three are in matching crinoline or whatever that is. I have to admit, those dresses really are awful."

"What do you mean?" Q demanded as he popped into life beside her. "They're traditionally styled wedding attire, made of the finest raw silk."

"Oh come on. Look at those sleeves. They could use them for parachutes," Shea objected. "But anyway, that's all beside the point. These women don't want to be here. Send them back."

"No, wait," Beverly said. "If Jean-Luc is getting married, I want to be here."

"I choose to stay as well," Sakonna stated. "I would not want to miss this."

"See," Q said to Shea in triumph. Then he frowned at Deanna and the torn dress on the floor. "What's your problem?"

"I object to this marriage. Captain Picard deserves better."

"She's mad at me," Shea explained. "I got a little fresh with her husband the other day."

"Fresh? That's what you call it? He ended up in the infirmary under Dr. Crusher's care."

Q leaned in next to Beverly, "Is this what they call a catfight?"

"Pretty much," Beverly said.

Q looked at Deanna, "You might want to reconsider. Shea has actual claws, you know." He snapped his fingers and the torn dress was back in one piece on Deanna. "But you're right about the sleeves," he agreed and they vanished from all three dresses. "Now for the bride." He waved his hand and a wall of white dresses appeared to their left. "Take your pick."

"Is this really necessary?" Shea asked in annoyance, looking at the long row of lace and pearls and ruffled this and that.

"Oh, look at all these - they're gorgeous," Beverly said and she ran her hands along the dresses. "This reminds me of my wedding. I spent weeks searching for the right dress. Did you know that Jean-Luc was our best man? That was probably the happiest day of my life. Except, of course, when Wesley was born. Come on. We'll help. There's bound to be something here you'll like. "

"Wow. You're really into this wedding stuff, aren't you?" Shea said.

"I love weddings. You should have seen Deanna's and Will's. We had such a good time."

"I wasn't invited," Shea reminded her.

"Probably because Deanna didn't want to get pushed out of the bed on her honeymoon," Beverly told her.

Deanna inhaled abruptly.

"Point taken," Shea said.

"Oooo… how about this one?" Beverly asked, and pulled out a long slim sheath of satin with a v-shaped panel of see-through lace in back. "Smart, elegant… no frills… kind of like your fiancé, wouldn't you say?"

Shea smiled at her. "I'm starting to like you. Okay, I'll try it on."

"I think these go with the dress," Beverly said and handed her a pair of heeled sandals.

Shea moved across the room to a bench, where she lay the gown and shoes down to undress.

Deanna stepped close to Beverly. "I can't believe you're encouraging this," she said in an angry whisper.

"If this is what Jean-Luc wants, he should have it," Beverly whispered back.

"She's not good for him. She's not good for anybody."

"That's not for us to say. It's his life."

So, what do you think?" Shea asked from the far side of the room as she held her arms up questioningly and pirouetted for the other women to see the dress and sandals she now wore.

The sleeveless dress melted onto her figure, revealing the rounded contours of her breasts, narrow waist, flat stomach and curving hips then fell into soft folds at her ankles. The scooped neckline showed a touch enough cleavage to be sexy without being obvious, and the open-lace diving to just below her waist in back contrasted beautifully against the pale golden skin beneath. Her crystal locks glowed with tiny rainbows in the light from the chandeliers above and she looked as if she were wearing make-up, although she wasn't, of course.

"I don't know what he sees in her," Deanna hissed.

"You've got to be kidding," Beverly replied low, then raised her voice to a normal level. "It's perfect. He'll love it."

"Good," Shea said, and lowered her arms, having heard every word of their whispered exchange. She'd heard far worse. Anyway, this wasn't about them or their opinions. It was about Jean-Luc and she wasn't going to disappoint him if she could possibly help it.

"Nearly time to make your grand entrance," Q pronounced. "I'll let you know when." Then he vanished leaving the four women staring at each other.

"I wonder where we are," Shea said. "I don't recognize this place."

"The invitation said, Paris, France," Beverly told her.

"You actually got invitations?" Shea laughed. "So I guess we're on Earth then."

"Yes, and not all that far from where Jean-Luc grew up in La Barre," Beverly replied. "I always loved his family estate. It's so peaceful out there in the country. But I'm sure you've seen it - met his sister-in-law Marie and all those second cousins on his mother's side. Marie's great, isn't she?"

Shea frowned. "Haven't had the pleasure."

"Oh," Beverly looked embarrassed. "Well, you've been busy."

"So how many times have you been there?"

"Just a few - very briefly." Beverly smiled uncomfortably under Shea's scrutiny.

"I wonder if this Marie received an invitation," Shea speculated. "She'll probably be shocked to see I'm the one wearing the white dress and not you."

"That was never in the cards," Beverly said softly, but her eyes avoided Shea's.

"Depends on which timeline you're in," Shea replied, and Beverly looked at her then.

The rich sound of organ music reached their ears and the far wall opened to reveal a long hallway.

"That must be our cue," Sakonna observed. "My understanding of European Earth tradition is that the bridesmaids enter first."

"Be my guest then," Shea said and waived them ahead.

Sakonna went first, then Beverly. Deanna glared at Shea for a long moment, then stomped in after the others.

Shea listened to the organ music, knowing it was time, but she couldn't quite get her feet moving. Deanna's hissed words hung in her mind - _She's not good for him. She's not good for anybody._

"Having second thoughts?" D asked.

He appeared in the form of Derek, suddenly there behind her with his arms wrapped around her. The need to scream forced her mouth open, but no sound came out.

"Hush now. Be calm," he told her and her heart rate slowed obediently and her muscles relaxed of their own accord. "No need to get excited. I'm not taking you anywhere, not on your wedding day. That would be rude. I'm here to walk you down the aisle, assuming you want to go." He released her and moved to stand in front of her. He wore a velvet tux in a blue so dark it was nearly black. As always he was impeccably dressed down to the finest detail. "Well, do you?"

She looked into his cold blue eyes, and his too handsome face, wishing for once she could see some evidence of humanity there. She saw nothing but amusement and condescension.

"You'll permit this?" she asked.

He sighed in annoyance. "Haven't I always allowed you to choose your human partners?"

"You've interfered with him before."

"I merely informed him of whom he was dealing with. A test which he failed miserably. He made the cowardly choice to send you away, not I. I still find it amusing that you took him back."

"He did what he felt was best."

"That's one view. Mine differs. Either way, you must admit it was his decision."

She nodded in agreement, and yet, she still felt deathly afraid.

"So are you marrying your Captain or not?" he asked, looking bored.

"Yes," she said, summoning her courage. "I am."

"Let's go then," he extended his elbow. Then he smiled, which only made him more terrifying. "You look breathtakingly beautiful, as always. I am one very proud father."

She swallowed hard at his calling himself that. If it were accurate, that would make the Q Continuum her siblings, but it was hard to define their relationships in any human terms that made sense. She could just as easily label herself as their mother since according to them her core energy had preceded theirs. She'd been told that the energy being residing in her had been absorbed into D's consciousness along with all of his predecessors, and that the Q had been splintered off from D in the explosion that birthed space and time, not that she remembered any of that, of course. She knew the story only because Q had explained their origins to her and D had confirmed it.

Q claimed that D had recently extracted her energy from his consciousness and placed it in a humanoid body created for his own amusement, apparently because she had been a thorn in his side. At least, that was what she'd been told. It didn't seem real to her, so most of the time, she didn't think about it. They were powerful beings whose minds spanned the universe. Her awareness didn't expand beyond her fingertips. She was merely a mildly enhanced version of human. The only time her relationship to them hit home was when either D or Q showed up to flip her world upside down, sideways or whichever direction they pleased.

Shea forced herself to take D's arm, then faced the hallway ahead. She tried to focus on her goal and block her fear of the man-thing beside her.

#

Jean-Luc was surprised to see Sakonna, then Beverly and finally Deanna walk toward him down the long aisle in their matching pink gowns. He might have smiled in amusement under other circumstances, but he knew they had been summarily kidnapped and forced into these roles with little if any notice. Sakonna nodded to him as she took her place, Beverly smiled and Deanna wouldn't look at him at all. Apologies would be in order later, but for now, he focused on the fact that he was getting married. And in the Cathedral of Notre Dame, no less.

Its Gothic architecture was every bit as spectacular as he remembered from his visit as a boy. Soaring buttresses above, deep blue, stained-glass rose windows, and row upon row of ancient hand-carved pews, now filled with the men and women he knew from the Enterprise and the Redemption. There were others here too, faces he hadn't seen in years, but valued friends nonetheless. And his sister-in-law Marie, there in the front row. She looked a little dazed, but kept smiling at him despite the obvious shock of finding herself uprooted to witness a wedding she'd had no knowledge was about to take place. He'd nodded to her reassuringly, and that had seemed enough for her to sit quietly and take it all in.

He supposed he should have realized there would be bridesmaids to match the number of groomsmen standing alongside him - Riker, Data and Worf. He had to admit that Q had selected the men with whom he felt closest. Now, it simply remained for the bride to join them. And whoever would be officiating. That spot still remained disconcertingly empty. He waited for Shea with just a touch of nervous anticipation. There seemed to be too large a gap between Deanna's arrival and Shea's entry. What was taking her so long? Then the music changed and there was the rustle of feet as people stood. He saw now why she had been delayed. Derek walked beside her, and he felt his mild case of nerves fly into alarm.

Despite his apprehension, the two approached calmly and deliberately, with Shea holding her head high and keeping her eyes trained on him. Picard smiled in support and mirrored her focus. Her bravery deserved nothing less. He could see how beautiful she looked, and he let himself enjoy the moment, despite the unwelcome presence that walked beside her. When she reached him, Picard took her hand. Derek kissed her on the cheek and smiled at them just long enough to make Picard's blood run cold. Derek moved away and sat next to Marie, who regarded him with a mesmerized fascination. Picard almost said something, but Shea squeezed his hand to prevent him. Then Q flashed into existence in the empty spot beside them. For a brief moment, Q and D exchanged hostile looks. Thankfully, the moment passed quickly, and Q turned his gaze upon the crowd. Picard allowed himself to breathe again.

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here this day to-" Q began.

"You're officiating?" Picard interrupted.

"Of course, who else would I trust?"

"Are you authorized to marry us?"

Q frowned at him. "Sometimes, Jean-Luc, I don't think you understand just who you're talking to." He rolled out a parchment in front of them about ten feet long with a variety of legal wording, and government stamps and seals. "After I marry the two of you, you'll be officially joined in matrimony from one end of this galaxy to the other." The parchment rerolled and disappeared.

Shea squeezed his hand again and went into a whisper for Picard's ears alone. "You don't have to do this. If you want to call it off, it's fine. I understand."

He shook his head and whispered back. "You know what I want. If there is any doubt here, it's coming from you."

"Sorry, but this is a little scary, don't you think?"

"Of course, it is. So what? We either live or hide. I choose to live, full out."

Shea smiled at the way he simplified everything, and found her courage again. "Okay. I'm with you."

Picard nodded to Q to go ahead.

"Well, I'm glad that's settled. As I was saying: We are gathered here this day to celebrate the union of this man and this woman…"

Q continued on with a long-winded, antiquated version of a traditional wedding ceremony, offering rote advice on the sanctity of marriage and the meaning of commitment. Picard nearly tuned out when Q changed to something that spoke to him.

"Today, as you join in marriage, there is a vast and unknown future stretching before you. The possibilities and potentials are great, as are the risks; and now falls upon your shoulders the task of choosing your values to face the responsibilities of life and challenges which inevitably lay before you. Ultimately, there comes a moment when a decision must be made. Two people who love each other must ask themselves how much they hope for, and how much risk they are willing to take."

Q paused then looked at Picard. "Now would be the time to recite your wedding vows. Would you like to begin, Jean-Luc?"

Picard hesitated, "I really haven't had a chance to prepare anything."

"Oh come now, Captain," Q said, "You, the master of spontaneous long-winded speeches delivered at the slightest opportunity, have nothing to say to your bride on your wedding day?"

Picard grimaced, realizing there was no graceful way out of this. He had no idea what he was going to say, but when he looked into Shea's eyes, the words found him.

"As I stand here holding your hand, expecting you to pledge yourself to me in marriage, it occurs to me that my brother Robert was right. I must indeed be one arrogant son of a bitch, because only that would explain why I think I have any right to make a claim on you. Perhaps it's simply because I can no longer contemplate a future without you in it. I think now on the words we have just heard about hope and risk. What I hope for is time with you, time to raise a family, to grow old in your company and when the time comes for me to draw my last breath, my greatest wish is that it will be your hand I am holding still. For that, I would accept any risk."

Q sighed happily. "Oh, Jean-Luc, you never disappoint." He turned to Shea, "Tough act to follow, but give it your best shot."

For a moment, all Shea could think about was punching Q for spoiling the mood. She forced herself to refocus, thinking about what Jean-Luc had just said, and she started to smile again.

"I like that you're arrogant… it's one of your more endearing traits, so please be arrogant and stake your claim. You speak of hope and risk. Hope is a luxury I don't allow myself and risk is a concept I seldom consider. But time I understand and I want to spend as much of it with you as I can. I trust you in a way I trust no one else. I value your opinion over any other. And I so hate to disappoint you, that I will dedicate my life to making sure that I never do."

Picard inhaled slowly and deeply, nodding in appreciation. For a long moment, only silence followed, then Q cleared his throat.

"Not bad," he said. "So, do you have the ring?" When Jean-Luc shook his head, Q looked shocked. "No ring? Unbelievable."

"Wait," Marie called out. "It's here." She stood and walked toward them with a ring in her hand. "This was your mother's wedding ring, Jean-Luc. It's only right that you should have it."

"Marie, no. Robert gave that to you. I couldn't possibly take it," Picard replied.

"Yes, you can. I want you to have it, and if Robert were here, he would say the same thing. Now don't argue." She put the ring in his palm and walked back to her seat next to D, who smiled at her charmingly.

"Thank you," Picard said, and slid the ring on Shea's finger, or rather he tried to. It didn't fit, of course, but then suddenly it did. He glanced at Q, who was frowning at him.

"I don't know what you would do without me," Q said. "And now, by the power vested in me by me, along with the governments of every civilization known to you, and those in the Gamma Quadrant whom only Mr. Borg over there would know, and far more civilizations beyond that which none of you here have ever encountered, I hereby pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Both Shea and Picard scowled and looked 'over there' toward the back of the cavernous room to see a Borg drone standing in the pews. As soon as Shea saw the drone, he began to move toward her. She sent him a mental message, _Stay where you are! _The drone froze in place.

"What the hell is going on here?" Picard asked, equally shocked by the drone's presence and the fact that it had just responded to Shea's telepathic command.

"Don't worry," Riker spoke up. "He's with us."

"What do you mean he's with you?"

"Oh for Pete's sake," Q interrupted. "I've just pronounced you man and wife, and you're dithering over a drone? Kiss your bride, Jean-Luc."

Picard turned back to Shea.

"Never a dull moment?" she asked and smiled apologetically at him.

"Never," he agreed, and then he kissed her as if there were no one else in the room. When he pulled his lips away, they weren't standing at the altar inside the Cathedral any longer.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17 - A Reception and a Conception

Picard smelled jasmine mixed with the earthy fragrance of evening outdoors among trees and grass. He and Shea stood in the center of a wooden dance floor before a stage occupied by a full orchestra. He turned to look behind him and there was his family home, and in between lay a sea of tables and chairs, where the same people from their wedding now sat.

"He's certainly going all out, isn't he?" Picard said.

"Q never does anything small," Shea agreed.

The orchestra began playing a waltz and Picard recognized it as one of his favorites. "I think we're expected to dance," he said, then slid his arm around her waist and swirled her across the floor.

"I thought you wanted to make babies," Shea said.

"Maybe right after you explain to me how it is that a Borg drone follows your orders."

"I was rather hoping you'd let that slide for awhile. Let's not spoil the mood."

Picard spun her around then pulled her close again. "Having a Borg drone for a wedding guest is disconcerting to say the least. However, seeing how he responded to you, I have to conclude we're in no immediate danger. I would just very much like to know why."

Shea sighed. "I promise I'll tell you all about it in the morning, but tonight, let's just enjoy ourselves. Please."

Picard thought about it for a moment, then reluctantly gave in. "Very well. Tonight, it's just us. But I'll expect a full report first thing tomorrow."

"Aye, aye, Captain. Now please shut up and dance."

Picard obliged for several more numbers as others joined them on the floor and the mood lightened considerably with good natured kidding and congratulations. When others cut in to dance with the bride, Picard looked for Data and found him.

"There's a Borg here," he told him.

"Yes, sir. I am aware."

"Shea assures me that he poses no danger to us, but I'd like that confirmed. See if you can find out why he's here."

Knowing Data was on the job gave Picard enough peace of mind to return to the dance floor. A moment later, he found himself partnered with Beverly.

"You didn't think you were going to get out of dancing me, did you?" she asked. 'After all, I am a bridesmaid."

He smiled in response. "You're being a very good sport about all this."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world. You, getting married - never thought I'd see the day. I am curious, though. You've chosen an unconventional life with her, living outside the rules. So what made you decide to make your relationship with her official?"

"I think you know me well enough to realize that I'll always be a traditionalist at heart. I grew up with very conservative, family-based values. I simply can't imagine raising children without being married to their mother."

"She's pregnant?" Beverly exclaimed a little too loud and several people dancing nearby turned toward them in surprise.

"No! No, she's not," he replied so they could hear too, then he lowered his voice. "Not yet."

"I see," Beverly said, and grew quiet. "I really want to say something encouraging here, but to be honest, I'm a bit at a loss. I hope you know what you're doing."

"As do I," he admitted. "I suppose you'd have to call this a leap of faith."

"Jean-Luc, if she's pressuring you into marriage and children-"

"Actually, you have it backwards. I'm the one who applied the pressure."

"Oh," Beverly looked a little shell-shocked. "Then I guess I should just say congratulations."

"Thank you," he replied and the music ended releasing him from the conversation, "and thank you for the dance as well." He started to move away, when she touched him on the arm.

"I hope you'll be happy, Jean-Luc. I really do."

He smiled at her. "That means a great deal to me. You've been a very dear friend whose shown me nothing but kindness and support over the years. I wish you every happiness as well." Again, he thought to move away, but she looked at him as if needing something more, so he added. "I also hope you've found someone else to share those morning talks. I always enjoyed them."

"Me too. Breakfast just hasn't been the same," she said wistfully.

Picard recognized this was about to get awkward when suddenly Shea was there rescuing him. She seemed a little breathless. "All this dancing's made me thirsty. How about you?"

"I wouldn't mind a break," he said and then Shea was pulling him off the dance floor through the crowd of well wishers. She kept them going past the bar area, and where food was being served and on into the grove of trees at the edge of the festivities. When they were out of earshot, she stopped tugging and turned to face him.

"So do you want to be a daddy or not?" she asked.

It was then that he realized the high color in her cheeks had nothing to do with dancing.

"Well, yes, but…" he turned back to look at the crowd, some of whom were smiling and waving at them. He waved back. "Timing's a bit awkward, don't you think?"

"Timing is everything, husband. And this is it." She looked at the house in the distance down the long driveway. "You grew up here. Were you conceived here as well?"

He nodded. "No doubt. I would assume all the Picards have been since our family came into possession of this land after the French Revolution."

"That's quite a legacy, don't you think?"

"Yes, it is." He smiled at her, getting the message. He glanced back again at the dancers and the others standing about or sitting at the tables. "I suppose they won't miss us if we're gone for a little while. How about a tour of the family estate?"

"Now you're talking."

He led her deeper into the trees. He knew a faster path than the long winding drive, and if they snuck in through a side door, there would less chance of being seen. A few minutes later, the music was a distant melody, and a pair of large paned doors stood before them. The handle moved under his grip and they slipped inside.

"This is the library," he told her. "I always loved this room. Spent much of my time in here."

"Very nice," she said glancing about as he led her through it and out into a much larger area - lots of wood and antiques, and patterned wool area rugs.

"The main hall, entry, living room, kitchen's that way, cellar down below," he explained pointing as he did so, "bedrooms upstairs."

He trotted up the long winding staircase, hanging onto her hand. He went to the right, and opened a door. "This was my room as a boy." He looked inside and Shea peeked over his shoulder. The room was decorated in antiqued white furniture with a fluffy floral bedspread. Perfumes littered the top of a bureau.

"You must have been one very sweet boy," she teased.

He laughed. "I think Marie's taken over this room. Let's find one that's not being used."

He thought about it for a moment. If Marie was sleeping here, maybe the master suite was unoccupied. He walked Shea past all the other single doors to the very end of the hall to a tall double set. As a child, this room had been off limits to him. He opened one of the doors just a crack. What he saw there made him open it wide. Dozens of candles lit the room, the white linen covered bed was scattered with red rose petals,and a bottle of champagne sat in an iced tub with a pair of long stemmed goblets beside it.

"It appears we're expected."

"Very romantic," Shea observed.

He nodded in agreement. "Yes, very. In fact, it's exactly what I-" He fell off, feeling mixed emotions at seeing his vision made real without his input. He hesitated for just a fraction of a moment, then stepped inside and drew her in with him.

She walked over to the champagne and saw a small white card. On it, in long-handed script, was the word: _Enjoy!_ The card was signed with a single letter, _D_. Seeing Picard had his back turned to her as he locked the doors, she palmed the card and crumpled it up before he could see.

"Q's always one step ahead," she said as she discreetly dropped the card into a waste basket.

"It's still my vision," he replied coming toward her now. "This is what I would have chosen had I been asked."

"I've always liked the way you see things."

"Good, because right now I'd like to see you out of that gown."

"You don't like it?"

"No, I love it. You look absolutely stunning in it, but right now, I'll like it even better on the floor." He slipped the narrow straps off her shoulders, looking for a way to remove the dress that seemed molded to her body. She helped out by opening the side of it with a swipe of her finger. The dress fell to her feet in one fluid slide. She wore nothing beneath but a white lace thong. He smiled seeing it.

"Nice touch," he said, fingering it.

She kissed him, not mentioning how she'd felt it appear on her while walking down the aisle. Another wedding gift from D. The unpleasant smirk on his face was an image she didn't want to remember right now.

Picard moved his hands over her bare back. "Now I know why you picked satin. Your skin feels just like it, only warmer. Lie down, I want to see you surrounded by those rose petals." She did as he asked and he looked at her appreciatively. "Now there's a picture I'd like to have hanging on my wall."

She laughed in response. "Come on. I'm lonely over here."

He pulled off his jacket and began working on his bowtie, then the cufflinks. "This isn't going to come off as quickly as your dress, I'm afraid."

"You want some help?" she asked.

"No, don't move. I just want to stare at you like that. If I can't have a picture on my wall, at least I'll have one in my head."

She obliged him as he undressed. She crushed a few rose petals and sniffed them as she waited. "Mmmm," she said. "These smell really good."

"Almost as good as you," he said as he slid beside her, and enveloped her in his arms. He held her for a moment, feeling uncertain now. Her body was so familiar, but the circumstances were not. "I've never intentionally tried to impregnate anyone."

"It's no different than doing it by accident," she reminded him.

He saw the flush in her cheeks, and how her eye color seemed a little deeper. He wondered if he had seen those clues in her before and failed to notice. He ran his fingers along the string of her underwear and she squirmed impatiently. Her hand reached for him, but he caught it.

"Now, now… let's not rush things."

"I thought you didn't want to be gone too long."

"They can wait. Now lie still," he said and began exploring. It didn't take but a few minutes before her lying still under his hands and mouth simply wasn't an option. He'd soon be in a wrestling match if he didn't attend to her. He'd pushed it too far before and knew where it led. He wanted to stay in charge, so he climbed on top. She let him fully into her mind as he took her, and they shared their physical sensations. The euphoric rush of combined pleasure was a good as any he had experienced before, but he noted something different, a subtle change in flavor, no better or worse, but different.

"Yes, it's different," she confirmed as she lay beneath him. "Congratulations, you're going to be a father."

He smiled in response. "You can't know already."

"Yes, I can. I'm not like other women."

"So I've noticed." He withdrew and rolled onto his back. He'd believed he was ready, now he wasn't so certain.

"No one's ever ready to be a parent, Jean-Luc. It's just something you do. Don't over think it."

That wasn't going to be easy. Over thinking was one of his strong suits.

When they returned to the party, the probability that he had just impregnated Shea was all he could think about, and he barely restrained himself from blurting it out to Dr. Bashir, when the latter offered him a hearty congratulations and clapped him on the shoulder.

Julian wore one of his patented Cheshire cat grins. "When I threw that box of condoms at you, I certainly wasn't expecting a wedding. I assume one discussion led to another."

"Yes, it did."

"Wish I had a tricorder with me," Julian sighed watching Shea out there on the dance floor. "I'm afraid I might be missing something important."

"Why would you say that?"

"Well, you two did disappear for awhile just now. Should I be congratulating you again?"

Picard decided not to answer directly. "Time will tell."

"Yes, it will," Julian smiled again. "Congratulations, Dad."

Picard frowned at him sternly. "Discretion, Doctor. If you please."

"You're secret's safe with me. For now. As you say, time will tell. So you think you're ready for fatherhood?"

Picard's face fell dramatically. "I'm not sure. I was so certain this is what I wanted. Now that it's real, I find myself at a loss. It suddenly occurs to me that I actually have no idea how to go about it. When I took over the Enterprise, my biggest fear was how to deal with having children on board. After awhile, I grew accustomed to their presence and occasionally interacted with reasonable success, but I was never a primary caregiver. I've never even babysat."

"Well, don't look at me. I'm a good pediatrician but other than that I don't know much about children either, other than being one for awhile. Fortunately, I grew out of it."

"Excuse me," Picard said and headed for the bar. He was surprised to see Guinan there behind it. "Can't you take at least one night off?"

"I like it here," she said. "This way, everyone comes to me. Even you." She looked at him closely. "You look like you need something stronger than synthehol. Try this."

She poured him a small glass of something deep golden brown in color. He took a swig… Scotch whisky… the good kind. He exhaled feeling the satisfying burn go down and shook his head. "We're just slaves to our physical and emotional needs, aren't we?"

"Are you talking about the drink or your wife?"

He smiled at that. "Both, I guess."

"You're not having regrets already, are you?"

"No. Of course not. I couldn't be happier. It's just a little… overwhelming."

"I understand. I've been married eight times, and I was always overwhelmed, at least in the beginning."

"They didn't all end in divorce, did they?"

"Oh no, I outlived five of them. The other three ended for various reasons. How many times has Shea been married?"

Picard stared at Guinan, realizing he didn't know. Of course, he didn't want to reveal his ignorance, so he simply said, "Maybe you should ask her sometime."

She nodded. "I will. Sounds like an interesting topic of conversation."

Guinan refilled his glass and he turned back to the party, now in full swing. The orchestra had changed from classical ballroom to a faster beat, heavy on the drums. People were jumping up and down out there, pumping the air with fists. He saw Shea in the middle of it all. The scene reminded him of how the locals from that nameless world had celebrated their last night of peace before being attacked by faceless killing machines from another dimension - the demons. Things had not ended well there. Picard shuddered at the memory and swallowed the rest of his drink in a single gulp. He sat the glass down on the bar for another.

"Okay," Guinan said, "What's going on?"

"Just fill the damn glass," he said.

"Not till you tell me what's bothering you."

"I can't protect her. We couldn't even make our own wedding arrangements. I could lose her at any time."

Guinan nodded. "I suppose that's true. But couldn't you say that about anybody you know? When you think about it, you're lucky. You get to see these beings, know the danger they pose, and at least have a chance to influence them. Most people have no idea they exist and things just happen, for no apparent reason." Guinan snapped her fingers in emphasis. "Maybe you're not in as much danger as you think."

"That's one way to look at it. The other way is that we have the privilege of seeing the train bearing down on us with no way to jump clear."

"You are in a mood tonight," Guinan shook her head and poured him another. "And here I thought we were celebrating."

"Me too," Shea said, appearing beside him. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing. I thought you were having fun out there dancing with everyone," Picard said.

"How can I have fun, feeling you diving into a pit of despair?" She pulled the glass out of his hand. "And I don't think getting drunk is helping."

"That's for me to decide." He took the glass back and downed it. "Might be the only real choice left to me. Everything else is being selected for us. I don't know what I was thinking, bringing children into this. We have no right to put a child in such danger."

Shea tugged him off to the side out of range of Guinan's hearing, who was now smiling in surprise.

"I'll protect them," Shea said. "I promise."

"And who's going to protect you? Obviously I couldn't. Not when it counted. And it could happen again. We're just barely back together, and these beings are back again too, interfering with everything, running the show."

"Weren't you the one who said we either hide or live?"

"That's fine for us, but now there's a child to think about."

"Two actually. You did say you wanted a boy and a girl."

"Twins?" Picard put his free hand to his head.

"Now see here. This is what you asked for. Don't you dare start freaking out on me."

"Typical human reaction," Q pronounced, suddenly in the middle again. "They ask for the world and when you hand it to them, they look at you in horror. They only want what they can't have and once they get it, they don't want it anymore."

"I didn't say that," Picard told him. "My only objection is that you and D keep meddling in our lives."

"I give you the finest wedding you could imagine and this is your gratitude?"

Picard opened his mouth again, but Shea threw her hand over it.

"Of course, we're grateful, Q," she said. "Our wedding and reception were perfect. You outdid yourself and we couldn't be more appreciative. You have to forgive my husband. He's just overwhelmed by how fast everything came together. It's hard on the human nervous system. They don't adapt as quickly as you or I to sudden changes. And now it's very late and we're all tired. I'm sure he's exhausted. Maybe it's best if you sent us home now."

Q looked a little mollified. "Well, all right. If you've had enough, I suppose we could call it a night." Then he smiled again. "You made such a lovely bride. I adore that dress Beverly picked for you. Oh and congratulations on the twins. Can't wait to meet them. Ta Ta."

In a blink, Q was gone, and Shea and Picard were back wearing their black and grey uniforms standing in their shared quarters on board Ship.

"Oh good, you're back," Ship said. "I've been so lonely with only Bleton and his wives here."

"Wives? Those two other Ketlins are female?" Picard asked in surprise.

"I thought you knew," Shea said. "One of them is pregnant too. We're due for a baby Ketlin any day now. So see, we won't be the first."

Picard looked at his hand, still holding an empty glass. "I should have grabbed the bottle."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18 - Return to the Borg

Captain Riker and his crew were back on the Enterprise, apparently none the worse for their impromptu wedding experience, except for a handful who had enjoyed themselves a little too much and needed to sleep it off. Dr. Crusher's assistants distributed medicines the following morning to deal with hangover complaints. Meanwhile, she worried about the Borg drone and the pathogen he claimed had wiped out their female population. She had checked on the drone since their return to the Enterprise and found him uncommunicative, an abrupt change from his previous offers to cooperate.

Riker took Dr. Crusher's comments about the drone's change in behavior seriously, but he had no idea what it meant. Tuvok reported that the Borg Cube had not moved or changed status during their absence. Now, upon their return, the Cube was powering up, slowly but steadily. Riker put some distance between them. He moved the Enterprise as far from it as possible, while still being able to detect it on the long range sensor arrays. He debated what to do with the drone now that he was silent and uncooperative. Hanging on to him might tempt the Borg ship to come after them, so Riker intended to eject him in a transport tube. But before that, he wanted to know the answer to one very bizarre question.

Why had Q invited a drone to Shea and Picard's wedding? Obviously, there was a connection there and he was pretty sure she was it. Her flag of preference was a snake-headed Jolly Roger, which she loved Ship to display whenever she wanted to make an impression or intimidate a foe. Not a few people called her the Pirate Queen, which didn't seem to bother her in the least. On the contrary, she thought it was funny as hell. Now here was a drone labeling himself a pirate. Who else would name them that?

Duty required that he investigate, which meant he would need to contact her, the very last person he wanted to see. Attending that wedding had been excruciating. He'd kept his eyes trained on anything but her, and avoided getting close. As the other guests had danced with her, and offered congratulatory hugs and kisses, he had hung back wishing fervently he were anywhere else. Throughout the wedding ceremony and reception, he could feel Deanna's rage, which had only made him more uncomfortable. She was still fuming. He hadn't even tried to talk to her about the experience yet, waiting for her to calm down. He was starting to think she was the one in need of counseling. Naturally, he thought of Dr. Crusher. Beverly seemed to be handling herself well, taking it all in stride. He sent the doctor a private message, asking her to intervene. In the meantime, he would try to question the Borg drone again, then he would have to contact the Redemption to get some answers.

Deanna was feeding another blouse into the disposal unit in her quarters, when her door buzzed. "Who is it?" she asked irritably.

"It's Dr. Crusher," came the answer.

Deanna sighed, knowing she had to let her in. "Enter."

Beverly came inside and looked at the pile of pink colored clothing at Deanna's feet, and the half-eaten blouse in the disposal shoot. "Cleaning out your closet?"

"I'm never wearing pink again." She pushed the blouse in until it disappeared, then picked up another article of clothing and began stuffing it in.

"Too bad. It's a good color for you. Not me - clashes with my red hair. That's why I went into medicine. I look better in blue."

"Right. You chose your career based on color choice. Ha ha," Deanna said humorlessly.

"No, of course not. That would be as silly as destroying your favorite clothing because of someone else's bridesmaids' dresses."

Deanna stopped what she was doing. "You think I'm being irrational."

"No. I think you're upset, and sad, and angry, and hurt."

Deanna hung her head, and started to cry. Beverly walked up to her and put her arm around her shoulders. "Will loves you. You needn't torture yourself like this."

Deanna nodded, but couldn't seem to stop crying. "I was so stupid. I encouraged him to have contact with her. I thought it would be therapeutic."

"It was therapeutic. The last time. Neither of you anticipated what would happen when you tried it again. You made an error in judgment, that's all. You're both going to be just fine."

"I'm not so sure. She almost took Will from me."

"But she didn't. She stopped."

"What you don't understand is that Will wasn't resisting her. He wanted it and when she stopped, it broke his heart. I don't know how to deal with that."

"Maybe he wanted it in the moment, but don't we all want things that aren't good for us sometimes? When he's thinking straight, he doesn't want any part of her. You know that. She caught him in a moment of weakness, and things got out of hand. All it means is that he'll be more careful in the future, and so will you."

"Stop being so reasonable," Deanna sniffed. "It's annoying,"

Beverly smiled. "Maybe we can come up with a better outlet than destroying your clothing. How about a session with me in Worf's hand-to-hand combat class? He's got one coming up in fifteen minutes."

"I don't know if I'm up for that."

"He's uses a holo-dummy. He could make it look like Shea. You could beat the crap out of her."

Deanna stared for a moment, then busted out laughing. "You're on."

An hour later, Deanna was soaked in sweat, red-faced, and smiling.

"That looked awfully therapeutic to me," Beverly observed as she threw Deanna a towel in the gym locker room.

"It was satisfying," Deanna admitted. "I should make that part of my daily work out."

"You know how people say their ears are burning when someone is talking about them? I wonder if Shea's ass is on fire, cause you kicked it pretty good out there."

"Oh, if only…" Deanna laughed. Then she grew serious again. "I don't know if I really hate her. I have very mixed feelings and they're hard to make sense of. She's saved so many lives, but then destroyed others. She's befriended us, betrayed us, healed us, hurt us. One minute I'm in awe and admiration, the next I wish she were dead. I want to trust her, but I can't. She's too changeable."

"By our standards, yes. But by her own, she's completely predictable, and we're the ones who can't be trusted. Like you said, our feelings and reactions to her change quickly. We feel one thing, say another, and she picks up on all of it. I'm sure it must be very confusing."

"I thought I was the therapist here."

"Then act like it. You may not be able to read Shea, but she reads you. She reads all of us. You know what it's like to deal with conflicting signals from people. To feel hate under a smile, desire behind a façade of disinterest, fear in someone boasting of none. What would it have been like if you'd had no training from your Betazoid teachers as you were growing up, and had never interacted with another human being until you were nearly an adult? Then throw on top of that a physical addiction to the male of the species. She's both completely dependent, and clueless. No wonder she and Data get along so well. They have so much in common."

"I suppose," Deanna said doubtfully.

"Deanna, you're letting your insecurities get the better of you. You're so dependent on your Betazoid senses, that you don't really trust yourself when dealing with someone you can't read. I don't think you need to be an empath to understand what makes her tick."

"Apparently not. You seem to think you understand her. I have to say I'm a little surprised at how sympathetic you seem, all things considered."

"You mean because Jean-Luc is with her."

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean. I sense some jealousy there. And maybe a wish things had turned out differently."

Beverly nodded. "Yes, I admit there is some of that. But it doesn't mean I'm sorry he's found someone he wants to be with."

"Do you actually think she's a positive influence in his life?"

"I don't know. I only know she's the one he wants, and he thought about it long and hard. He struggled with his feelings for years and finally made a life-changing decision so that he could be with her. This isn't some passing fancy, or temporary aberration. He's married her. He wants children with her. Shea is the partner he has chosen and I have to respect his decision. We all do."

"I don't know. In the past I always trusted his insight into people and his sound judgment. But now with Shea in the picture, I don't trust much of anything. I think he's in over his head, scared to death of things he can't control, and struggling to make sense of it all. You're right that she's the one he wants. But like you said, sometimes we want things that aren't good for us."

"Yes, but it also seems to me that when it comes to matters of the heart, being in over your head, scared to death and struggling to make sense of it all, are perfectly normal. Just look at you and Will. Maybe all anyone in love really needs is to have a little faith."

#

Oblivious to being the center of Deanna and Beverly's conversation, Riker was down below in the Brig, trying to elicit some response from the Drone, who sat in a near frozen state on a bench behind the cell's security force field. They had set up a constantly modulating frequency on the field after Dr. Crusher had reported the drone could exit the holding cell at will. They didn't know if the drone could get through it now or not, as he apparently hadn't tried since they had made the change. The drone sat unmoving, and silent, staring blankly. Riker assumed he was in communication with the collective mind on the Borg ship. He wondered what the drone had thought of attending a human wedding ceremony and reception. It had probably made little sense to him. And yet, for some reason, Q had felt it appropriate to include him. The question was why?

So far Riker's attempts to get the Borg's attention were going unheeded. He tried again. "So, what did you think about the wedding?" No response. "Did you know the bride?" Still nothing. "Her name is Shea. Ring any bells?" The Borg turned his head and looked at him. "Finally. I assume you recognize the name."

"Captain!" Worf's voice came over his communication badge. "We are being scanned."

"At this distance?"

"Affirmative. They are accessing our main computer. We're trying to shut it down."

"We have identified her location," the Borg drone stated. "We will proceed to Earth to make contact."

"The hell you will," Riker replied angrily.

"Captain," Worf addressed him, "the Cube is approaching us."

"Shields up!"

"You will accompany us," the Borg stated. "You are acquainted with her. Your assistance may be required."

"We're not going anywhere near Earth and neither are you," Riker told him.

He felt the ship rock under his feet. They were being fired upon. He ran for the turbolift.

"Red Alert!" the computer announced and the lights flashed on and off.

"Shields down thirty percent," Worf reported when Riker entered the Bridge.

"All available power to the shields, Mr. La Forge," Riker ordered. "Return fire, phasers on full. Target their weapons array."

"Returning fire," Worf confirmed, then frowned a moment later. "No damage detected."

The ship rocked again. "Evasive maneuvers," Riker commanded. "Remodulate frequency. Fire again."

Worf followed orders then shook his head. "Still no damage."

The Enterprise trembled a third time as another blast hit them.

"Prepare photon torpedoes," Riker ordered.

"Shields at forty percent. Torpedoes ready."

"Launch."

They watched as the photon torpedoes sped toward the Borg Cube growing ever larger in the viewscreen. A blast of energy from the Cube blew the torpedoes apart before they reached their target, sending a shower of fiery debris into the blackness. Another blast hit the Enterprise's shields full on.

"Shields down!"

"Get us out of here. Maximum warp," Riker ordered, but as the words left his lips, he felt himself being transported.

"Captain!" Worf called out in protest, but he was gone. Their shields were down and he had his orders, but still he hesitated. For him, leaving his captain behind was never an option. "Transporter Room, beam me aboard the Borg Cube, now. You have the Bridge, Mr. Tuvok."

Tuvok watched as the First Officer transported away after his Captain. "I'm not sure that was the best choice," he said under his breath and sent the Enterprise into Warp nine.

Moments later, all that could be seen in the viewscreen was a field of stars streaming past. They had left the Borg Cube far behind and there was no evidence of pursuit. Tuvok slowed them to standard Warp speed.

"What happened?" Deanna demanded rushing out of the turbolift. She looked about seeing her fears confirmed. Her husband was missing and so was Worf.

"Both Captain Riker and First Officer Worf transported aboard the Borg ship. Our shields are down and we have retreated from the attack."

"You left them behind?"

"There was no other logical option available," Tuvok replied. "I was left in command, however, seeing that you are now on the Bridge and outrank me, command of the Enterprise is now yours." He removed himself from the Captain's chair and returned to his helm control station. Deanna looked at the empty chair. It wouldn't be the first time she'd sat in it, but never because her husband was missing in action. She sat down. "Status report."

"Shields inoperative. Mr. La Forge estimates three hours required for repairs. Captain Riker and Commander Worf are missing, as stated," Tuvok reported.

"Anyone else?"

"Checking now. Our Borg prisoner is also missing. Remaining crew members all accounted for."

Any sign that the Borg ship is pursuing us?"

"None. We are not being followed."

"Bring us to a full stop, and find that Borg ship. Alert Starfleet Command of our situation. And I want the senior staff to meet in the conference room… stat."

"Yes, Captain."

Deanna took a deep breath at the sound of that title being addressed to her. She had considered the possibility of one day commanding a starship, but this wasn't the way she wanted it to happen.

"Captain, I have Vice-Admiral Thomas Henry online."

She nodded calmly, although a bit surprised that such a high ranking officer was contacting her directly. On screen," she ordered. The Admiral's wide brown face appeared before her.

"What the hell is going on with you people? Six hours ago, we detected the Enterprise in orbit around Earth, but you wouldn't respond to our hails. Next you're back in deep space with no explanation, fighting with a Borg ship, who have absconded with your Captain and First Officer, and now you've lost track of them?"

"Yes, sir. All true. We were guests at the wedding of Captain Jean-Luc Picard and Shea in Paris, France, courtesy of the Q. We had little notice. We weren't sure where the Enterprise was located during the wedding and had no contact with our ship."

She waited for the delayed communication to reach him, then watched his eyes go wide with incredulity.

"A wedding! Captain Picard? You don't really expect me to believe any of this."

"I saw Admiral Conners there. You can confirm the event with him."

"I will. You can count on it." He turned aside and spoke to someone off screen. Then he turned back to her. "Now what's this about a Borg calling himself a pirate? What does that mean?"

"Uncertain. We were investigating the possibility that there may be a connection with Shea when the cube attacked us."

"That woman again. She's caused more trouble. I was against employing her from the beginning." He looked aggravated. He turned aside, apparently listening to someone else. When he looked back at Deanna, his demeanor changed a bit. "It seems your wedding story has been confirmed."

"Yes, sir. I would never invent something like that. It's too far-fetched."

He nodded. "My apologies. I'm also sorry your husband is missing. Are you certain you are emotionally competent to take command under these circumstances?"

"I believe so. Should it prove otherwise, I will step aside."

"Very well, as Acting Captain, you have our full support. Find that Borg ship, and keep us informed."

"Yes, sir."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19 - A Borg History Lesson

Picard woke in the morning to find a note lying beside him instead of his new wife - 'Couldn't sleep… went for a walk.' He crumpled it up in annoyance and flung it. So much for newlywed bliss, he thought and hoped she wasn't setting a new precedent. She was normally careful about being in bed with him when he woke - something he appreciated. Maybe this was about that report on the Borg drone he'd insisted upon hearing first thing. He almost had Ship locate her and insist she report on the double. Instead, he took a deep breath, got himself dressed and went to his ready room. Two could play this game.

His comm buzzed and Data's voice came on. "Captain, we've intercepted a subspace communication between the Enterprise and Starfleet Command."

"If they only knew how easily we can eavesdrop…"

"Unlikely. All their messages are securely encrypted."

"Not as secure as they think. Let's hear it." He listened to the exchange between Deanna and Vice-Admiral Henry with growing apprehension. "How long would it take to reach them?"

"I thought you might ask. I have plotted a course to the Pirate Borg ship's last known location. We can be there within eight hours at maximum warp."

"Good. Make it so. Meanwhile, it's time you and I talked to Shea about this pirate business. No more delays and no more excuses."

"Yes, sir. I'll summon her to the Conference Room immediately."

"Good. And don't mention to her that they have Will and Worf just yet. I don't want to distract her before we get some answers."

"Yes, sir," Data replied.

Shea stood waiting in the Conference Room, staring out the large viewing portal into the vastness of space.

"Here they come," Ship told her. "You're going to tell them everything, right?"

"Everything they need to know," she replied. Then the door opened and Picard and Data walked in. She turned to face them.

"Freeze display," Picard ordered automatically. With Shea's help he could withstand the undulating motion on the walls better than most, but it still wasn't pleasant. "Last night, I told you I wanted a full report on your connection with the Borg."

"Yes, I know."

"Come sit down, please," Picard told her and she did. "Now, start from the beginning."

"Okay… it was a little after you kicked me off the Enterprise. I took a trip through the Bajoran wormhole…that's how I met Julian…but that's not what you want to hear about, is it?"

"No, stay on point."

"Right. I had heard rumors about shape-changing ships in the Gamma Quadrant, and I was bent on finding out if they existed, and if so, to see if I could get hold of one. Took awhile, but I finally learned that they were augmented life forms, bred by Ketlins. The Ketlins proved to be a very secretive race and highly suspicious of outsiders. They firmly believe no one but themselves are capable of caring for their starwhales or deserve to have them. They never sell, trade or give them away. So I just hung around looking for a way to ingratiate myself and managed to rescue Bleton in a dicey encounter with the Dominion. He knew he owed me, so one day he took me to observe Starwhales in the wild. We came upon a mated pair when we were attacked by a Borg ship. Long story short, we were all assimilated, me, Bleton and the whales - just not very successfully." She frowned at the memory.

"How so?" Picard asked.

"Bleton didn't present too much of a challenge, but the whales were wild. They instinctively morphed into all kinds of resistant shapes and caused so much havoc that the Borg destroyed them. But the female had been pregnant so they kept the fetus. It wasn't much bigger than we are, very cute and completely helpless. The Borg had Bleton's knowledge by then and managed to keep it alive and began assimilating it slowly."

"You're talking about Ship?" he asked. She nodded, so he pressed further. "And what was happening to you while all this was going on?"

"Well, they were trying to assimilate me too, of course, but it wouldn't stick. I'd be part of the hive mind for awhile, then my body would reject their implants again. I was careful that they didn't see me as a threat and after repeated attempts, they finally decided I wasn't worth the effort. They ended up ignoring me and I was able to roam free. I kept my eye on Bleton and the baby starwhale, but they were both deeply embedded in the hive mind. I really didn't know what to do about it and was pretty much trapped along with them."

"Obviously you discovered a weak point."

"Not really. I finally had to face the fact that sometimes the only way out of the maze is to go all the way in, so in I went, all the way to the heart. It took about a year, I think. I'm a little fuzzy about that."

"I'm not fully understanding."

"I assimilated, intentionally, searching for a way out with Ship and Bleton. And finally, I found one."

Picard frowned at her, feeling disconcerted that she had hidden all this from him. "It seems you affected their thinking in the process. These Borg call themselves pirates. And now they're apparently in search of females."

"I don't know why that should be. They had plenty on board."

"The Enterprise reported that their entire female population was killed off by a neurological pathogen."

"A gender selective disease? Guess I got out of there in the nick of time."

"The drone claimed the pathogen was introduced by Captain Kathryn Janeway when she was assimilated into the central collective," Data explained. "However, that claim does not make sense since records show Captain Janeway returned safely to Earth with her crew and never had such an encounter."

"Huh. I doubt they'd pull her name out of thin air. Has anyone contacted her about this?" Shea asked.

"We are attempting to do so."

"So now you know everything we do," Picard said. "I trust the same can be said in reverse."

"Yes, that's everything."

"Not everything, everything," Ship interjected.

"Everything that matters," Shea countered.

"Shea, you need to tell us all of it… even the most difficult parts," Picard told her.

She sighed. "Do I really have to go into the sordid details?"

"That's impossible for me to judge from the standpoint of ignorance," Picard said. "Give us the benefit of the doubt and stop holding back."

"I already told you, I assimilated and finally found a way out."

"When you said you went to the heart of the hive, does that mean that you found the Borg Queen?" Data inquired.

She frowned before answering reluctantly. "Yes, I found her."

"And then…." Ship prompted.

" And then I killed her."

"And then…." Ship pushed her again.

"I took her place."

"What?" Picard sat upright. "You, you became a Borg Queen?" He tried to wrap his mind around the concept. "But it couldn't have been the one Data and I encountered - Data destroyed her."

"Of course, that wasn't me.. that is, not exactly. I mean we were all linked. Kind of. It's complicated. It made perfect sense when I was part of it, but now….not so much. There's a Queen for every Borg ship, but at the same time there's only one mind for the entire collective. It's almost like being a body part for one combined intelligence."

Picard nodded his understanding. "I remember that much. That loss of self."

"Exactly. Which really isn't my thing. So long story short, I eventually figured out how to disengage from the central collective, while keeping command of that one Cube. We became independent, and the Pirate Borg were born. Before long, I replaced myself with another female, pulled Ship free, grabbed Bleton and got the hell out of there."

"And here we are. Ta da!" Ship said cheerfully. "Pretty much what I told you."

"Except for leaving out a few facts," Picard said, letting the impact of Shea's story sink in that she had been part of the controlling heart of the collective.

"Now I understand why the Borg Queen we encountered engaged in such seductive behavior," Data stated.

"Sorry. That was repulsive, wasn't it? I never wanted to tell you of my involvement in that."

"Do not apologize," Data told her. "If not for your influence, I believe that I would have been destroyed instead. I recall Locutus previously telling me that my technology was of little or no value to the Borg. I always found the Queen's actions puzzling. It appears that you were instrumental in preserving my life."

"I hadn't thought of it that way. Thanks. That helps," Shea said and smiled a bit.

"Glad you feel better," Picard said as he stared at her. He radiated his displeasure and knew she felt it. _When will the secrets end?_

"It wasn't a secret," she said aloud. "I just never bothered to mention the experience because it was irrelevant until now."

"That's one interpretation."

#

When the Redemption dropped out of warp drive to track the whereabouts of the Borg Cube, they picked up a subspace communication from Starfleet Command directed to them.

"Open a channel on screen," Picard ordered and rose from the Captain's chair to stand before the main viewer. The image of Vice-Admiral Thomas Henry appeared. "Admiral Henry. How can we be of service?"

"You can get between Earth and the Borg Cube headed our way. Recordings of Captain Riker's last interrogation of the Borg drone on board the Enterprise indicate these Borg are looking for Shea and they think she's here on Earth. Whatever they want with her, you'd better damn well give it to them."

Picard bristled at the suggestion. "Since when do we give in to the demands of the Borg?"

"Giving up one individual would be a very small price to pay for Earth's safety. I expect you to act in your home world's best interest."

"Your opinion is noted. We're on our way. Redemption out."

Picard turned away from the now blackened star-filled screen, to look back at Shea sitting in the chair next to his.

"Well, that's not good, " she said.

"These Borg must believe that you will prove resistant to the pathogen," Data ventured.

"No doubt," she said, "but I'd rather not put their theory to the test. Especially considering my condition."

"Especially," Picard agreed. "Perhaps we should find a secure place for you until this is resolved."

"No, no, you're going to need me along. I know them. Besides, I'm probably safer on Ship than anywhere else you could come up with."

He nodded. "Very well. Lay in a course for Earth, maximum warp."

Picard kept the Redemption cloaked. As they approached Earth, they found the Enterprise along with a half dozen other Federation vessels firing upon the Borg Cube. Picard scanned the field, analyzing the situation, quickly seeing that the Starfleet phasers and photon torpedoes were having little to no ill effect on the Cube. To his surprise, the Borg had yet to return fire.

"Why aren't they fighting back?" he asked Shea.

"No need, I suppose," she replied.

"Hail the Enterprise," he ordered.

Deanna Troi's face appeared on screen. "Are you on your way to assist us?" she demanded.

"We're here now, cloaked. You need to cease firing."

"They've taken hostages and are scanning Earth for more. They have to be stopped."

"Agreed, but you can see that your weapons are ineffective. I urge you to stand down before you irritate them to the point they launch a counter-attack."

For a moment, it looked as if she were going to argue, but then Deanna nodded and the firing stopped. "What's your plan?" she asked.

Good question, Picard thought to himself, and muted their signal. He turned to Shea, "Do you have any insight on how to deal with these Pirate Borg of yours?"

"They'll remember Locutus. Talk to them. It's what you do best."

He frowned at the idea of adopting his Borg personae again. He restored communication with the Enterprise. "We will attempt to establish communication."

"Borg don't negotiate," Deanna reminded him.

"These Borg are different from those we've encountered before. If not, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation."

"I'm still skeptical, but please go right ahead," Deanna told him. "We will be monitoring your communications."

Picard nodded and terminated his channel with the Enterprise.

"Open a hailing frequency to the Borg ship. Make sure no image of Shea is transmitted. I don't want them to know she's here."

"Understood," Data replied. "Hailing the Borg."

"This is Locutus of Borg," Picard stated in a firm monotone.

The combined electronic voice of the Borg vessel responded. "Locutus, you are recognized. Join us."

"I will not join you, but I offer assistance."

"To assist us, you must join us."

"Joining is not required. Communication is. You will tell me what you are seeking."

"We seek the humanoid known as Shea."

"For what purpose?"

"For the continuation of our existence."

Picard frowned for a moment, thinking how best to respond, but the Borg spoke again.

"Your vessel is hidden. Is it a starwhale, Locutus?"

_Don't answer that_, Shea warned him.

"You were seen in the presence of Shea on Earth. Is she with you now?"

Picard slashed the air to cut off the sound.

"We're not fooling anybody," he said.

"No," she agreed. "They're annoying but they're not stupid."

"Annoying? They have enough fire power to destroy the entire planet and Earth's defenses are useless against them."

"True enough, but Ship's weapons are not useless. We have little to fear."

"Oh boy," Ship said. "Are you sure about that?"

"Of course, I'm sure. I know you better than you know yourself and I know that Borg Cube too."

"But it's been years since we last saw it and they're constantly adapting. Things could be a whole lot different than you remember," Ship answered.

"You're different too, Ship. Don't forget that. You were a babe when they last saw you. Now you're fully mature, and completely augmented. Your wild parents very nearly destroyed that Cube acting on instinct alone. You have every ability they had and a whole lot more."

"They're trying to locate me. I'm adjusting my cloaking frequencies."

"See. I told you you're a match for them."

"You're not suggesting we attack?" Picard said.

"No, I'm just saying we shouldn't be intimidated. Continue your negotiations, but do it from a position of strength. Talk to them as if you have the upper hand, because you do."

Picard nodded, feeling her confidence. He knew Ship's capabilities. This wasn't a bluff. He reopened the channel.

"Your questions are irrelevant," he told the Borg. "The problem is that you have been infected with a neurological pathogen that has killed the females of your species. Bringing more females into the collective serves no purpose until the pathogen itself is eliminated. We are searching for the source of the infection, and will find a cure, but this will take time."

"How much time?"

"I cannot give you an estimate. You must be patient. Meanwhile, you will return the hostages, alive and unharmed."

"Unable to comply. Five of the females have been tested and did not survive."

"You will cease testing. There is no point in it. Return the remaining hostages now, unharmed."

"We agree to suspend testing, but will keep those we have taken. We will trade them for a cure. If a cure cannot be found we will trade them for the one known as Shea. We believe she can survive the pathogen and generate a cure."

"There is no proof that she can."

"Nor is there proof that she cannot."

Picard sighed at their myopic view. Shea's death would be the only proof they would accept. Since the Borg put no value on the individual, they saw no problem in that.

"We will proceed with our research and contact you in twenty-four hours," Picard told them.

"Agreed."

He'd bought them a window. He just hoped it was big enough.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 - Doctors and Captains and Hostages

Captain Picard, Data, and Dr. Bashir walked into the Observation Lounge on the Enterprise and took their seats with those who had been waiting for them. Around the conference table were Dr. Crusher, Geordi La Forge, Captain Kathryn Janeway and a self-aware Emergency Medical Hologram with a 29th century mobile emitter. The human doctors stared at the EMH, who frowned back at them with evident discomfort.

"You're making me nervous," he finally said and they looked away.

Picard instinctively wanted to take command of the meeting, but he held back, reminding himself this wasn't his ship anymore and Deanna was in charge. A moment later, she entered the room and sat at the head of the table.

"Welcome," she said. "As you can see, I have brought Captain Janeway on board to respond to the allegations by the Borg that she is the source of the neurological pathogen infecting them. For reasons she has yet to explain she has brought the EMH from the Voyager along with her. We need to know what you know, Captain Janeway."

"Well, it's true that we did engage the Borg shortly before we found a passage back to Earth," Janeway stated, seeming to choose her words carefully. Picard saw how she and the hologram kept exchanging meaningful looks. "The Cube pursuing us was destroyed, as you know, so obviously this is not the one we encountered."

"Obviously. Now what exactly do you know about this pathogen?"

Janeway sighed and shared another worried look with the EMH doctor, before turning back to Deanna. "Captain Troi, I want very much to cooperate, but I do not wish to incriminate myself. I need your assurance that neither I nor my crew will be prosecuted for something we haven't done yet."

"Yet?" Picard echoed. "Are you saying that you intend to break the law in the future?"

"Based on my past experience, it's a definite possibility. However, since the need no longer exists, perhaps it won't be necessary." She shrugged uncertainly.

"You're speaking in riddles," Deanna told her. "This is not helpful."

"That's the trouble with time travel isn't it, Captain? Temporal loops often defy logic," Picard said to Janeway.

"I see that you've guessed my problem here," Janeway replied.

"We don't have time to play guessing games with you," Deanna said. "If you break the law in the future, that's when it will be dealt with. Now explain clearly everything you know about the source of this pathogen."

Janeway nodded her assent. "While on the Voyager, I met my future self. She traveled backward in time to assist our return to Earth through the Borg transwarp hub. The Doctor here infected her with a pathogen he designed, and she allowed herself to be assimilated into the central collective. The resulting damage to the Borg bought us enough time to escape."

Both Dr. Bashir and Dr. Crusher stared at the hologram in disbelief.

"You created this pathogen? But you're just an EMH," Bashir protested.

"I am more than just a hologram. I am an excellent doctor. And probably far better suited to the practice of medicine than you."

"We're not here to argue philosophical points," Picard interrupted. "What we need to know is do you have a cure?"

"Curing the Borg was not something I endeavored to do," the EMH Doctor replied. "My purpose was to kill the queen in order to cripple them. However, I am reasonably certain that given adequate time, and access to the necessary research equipment, I could devise a cure."

"You have twenty-two hours," Picard told him.

"Twenty-two hours, fifteen minutes and thirty-four seconds," Data corrected.

"Ridiculous," the Doctor said. "I would need a week just to set up the parameters. And of course, I would also need samples of the pathogen as it has evolved since the original infection."

"I have samples from the Borg drone, and from the autopsy," Dr. Crusher replied. "I've been analyzing them and have already made some progress. We're not starting from scratch. If we combine the medical resources of the Enterprise with those of the Redemption, we may be able to come up with a solution in time."

"We'll provide whatever support you need," Picard replied. "With Captain Troi's permission."

"Granted, but Dr. Crusher will remain in charge," Deanna said. Picard nodded his consent.

"Fine by me," Julian said. Then he grinned at Beverly. "If you show me your equipment, I'll show you mine."

Beverly smiled and shook her head at him, then turned back to Deanna. "We'll need input from this EMH as well."

"You may address me as Doctor. Please converse with me directly," the hologram requested. "I have evolved well beyond my original program. I have feelings, the same as you. Why do flesh and blood people have so much difficulty with that?"

"You have my sympathy," Data told him.

"Sorry," Dr. Crusher said. "I'll try to be more respectful."

Deanna looked at the three doctors, "Get working on this immediately, and keep me informed on your progress. Go."

The doctors stood and exited the room, leaving the two Captains, La Forge and Data behind. Deanna turned her attention on Captain Picard.

"Pirate Borg," she said with a bitter tone. "Obviously she's responsible. And now they're asking for her by name. Your negotiation needs to include a trade for the hostages."

"That won't be necessary. We will give them what they truly need, a cure."

"Assuming we can find one. Twenty-two hours isn't a lot of time for a medical breakthrough, but it's more than enough for us to lose our people over there. With a hostage trade we could save them now, and also buy more time."

"No, there will be no trade," he told her firmly. "Will and Worf are in little danger. They're male, making them immune to this pathogen. We don't know what effect it might have on Shea."

"They've also taken twenty women from Earth who are in immediate danger. And although the men may be immune to the pathogen, they're not immune to assimilation. Who knows what's happening to them?"

"Shea assures me that these Borg no longer make it a practice to assimilate other life forms."

"And we're supposed to take her word for it?" She kept her expression frozen but Picard could see that she was angry.

"You know that I will do everything in my power to get them back safely."

"Except make a trade apparently," Janeway observed.

"I don't see you volunteering, despite the fact that you are the apparent cause," Picard replied.

Janeway frowned and averted her gaze.

"She's not the one they're asking for," Deanna said then turned to her. "Captain Janeway, you will need to remain here with us. I will have to report your violation of the Temporal Prime Directive to my superiors. Although it will be your future self that initiates the act, it's clear that the person you are today willingly participated. I believe prosecution in the present is very likely."

Janeway smiled sadly. "Well, I knew it would catch up to me eventually. Still, I have no regrets. Even if I end up in prison, I know I made the right choice. My crew deserved to come home when they did…. all of them."

"And now others are paying the price. I'm sure you did what you thought you needed to, and so will we," Deanna told her, and tapped the screen before her. "Security will escort you to your quarters. Confine yourself to them."

"I understand," Janeway replied and left with a security officer who appeared and waved her to come with him.

Deanna turned back to Picard. "Our weapons have proved surprisingly ineffective against this Borg Cube. I'm sure we have Shea to thank for that. I need you to share Ship's technology with us."

Picard sighed. "Ship's ability to withstand the Borg is largely biologically based, so there's little we can offer. Data is here to assist in reconfiguring your weapons array, but ultimately the Borg will adapt to any technological defense you can devise. In the event of an attack, Ship may be able to offer some protection, but our best bet is to find a cure. We're fortunate that these Borg are no longer interested in assimilating us. They just want to survive. And yes, you can thank Shea for that as well."

Deanna seemed to digest his words for a moment before speaking again. "We appreciate any help you can provide. Geordi, work with Data on our weapons. See what can be done to make them more effective."

"Yes, Captain," Geordi replied and nodded to Data to come with him. The two left together and now only Picard and Deanna remained.

He offered her a half-smile. "I recognize these are very difficult circumstances, but you're handling yourself quite well."

She frowned in response. "Please don't patronize me. I'm no longer your subordinate and I don't need your approval."

"No, you don't. But you have it, nonetheless." He felt a certainly fatherly pride seeing her take charge like this. "Deanna, I know you don't agree with some of the choices I've made, but please try to recognize that we're all on the same side."

She smiled at that but there was no pleasure in it. "No, we're not. You're on her side, whereever that lands you. Your reluctance to trade her for the hostages is just another example. Those people are not nearly as resilient as she is. She would survive. She can regenerate. Will and Worf and those women over there don't have that capability. You need to make the trade."

"I can't. She's pregnant."

"Pregnant? You're not serious."

"Very. Twins.. boy and a girl. Just a few days now. As of our wedding night actually. You're probably thinking it's so early, it wouldn't matter if we started over. But she can feel them. They're already real to her. And to me. Shea might well survive, but there's a very good chance they would not. I won't risk it."

Deanna shook her head. "I keep hoping you'll finally wake up, but you just keep digging yourself in deeper."

"You have every right to your opinion, Deanna. Just don't expect me to agree with it. We each must choose our own paths. I only wish everyone were as happy with theirs as I am with mine."

There seemed no point in further discussion, so Picard took his leave and returned to his ship. Shea was waiting for him in their quarters.

"I liked the way you defended my honor," she told him.

"You were eavesdropping on me. Were they listening too?" He put his hand on her lower belly possessively.

"They're much too small - just teeny little zygotes. No awareness yet, but lots of potential."

"Do you consider them to be alive?"

"Good question. I consider them a promise of life. Why? Are you trying to assess how to feel if we should lose them at this stage?"

"I suppose I am," he admitted.

"So you are considering a trade, despite what you told Deanna."

"I have to consider all our options. We're fortunate the Borg agreed to stop testing the women, which gives us some time to come up with a cure. Between Crusher and Bashir, I like our odds."

"So what was it about those particular women they took?"

He scowled in response. "I don't know. I'm not sure if anyone has asked that question."

"They must have something in common."

"I assume they met some criteria the Borg were searching for."

"Weren't they were searching for me? For my DNA?"

Picard groaned at the realization, "These women must be related to you."

Shea exhaled. She was at a loss for words for a moment. "Look, maybe you should trade me now."

"No. What these Borg need is a cure, not you. You said to bargain from a position of strength and I am. I'm not giving in to their demands."

"But…"

"I said no. That's final."

She fell silent for a few moments before trying again. "Deanna's right. My chances of survival far exceed theirs."

"No!" He shook his head angry now. "Absolutely not. I just got you back. I won't lose you again."

"Jean," she said and put her arms around him.

He held her close until he got his emotions under control again. When he finally pulled back, he looked her in the eyes and spoke again, firmly and calmly, leaving no room for argument.

"I know what you're saying and you're not wrong, but I've bought us a window and we're going to use it. If it closes before we have a cure, and there is absolutely no other option available to us, then and only then will I consider making an exchange."

"All right. But I am worried about how they're doing over there without food, or water, or any creature comforts. Maybe Locutus could negotiate sending over some supplies, maybe even let you talk to them."

He nodded. "It's worth a try. I'll make it clear we need to know they're in good health to ensure our cooperation."

"That should work. I'll go help Sakonna pull emergency kits together and load them into a shuttle."

He scowled at her suspiciously. "We'll use an unmanned transport tube. Don't get any ideas about launching a rescue operation."

"I was just thinking that if I happened to see an opportunity..."

"Yes, I know exactly how you think… always looking for that moment of inattention when you can slip through the cracks. Not this time. You stay on board until I say otherwise."

"Is this how you're going to behave for the next nine months? Because if it is, we're going to have serious issues."

"Prepare to have issues then. I'll not have you taking unnecessary risks."

She shook her head at him but offered no further argument. As he headed back to the Bridge to reopen a dialogue with the Borg, she went for the emergency supplies.

"You're not going to do anything crazy, are you?" Ship asked her.

"Of course not," she replied.

"He said you weren't to take any unnecessary risks."

"I never do."

#

"Hail the Enterprise," Picard ordered.

He felt good about what he'd just accomplished and was looking forward to informing Deanna. Her face appeared on the screen before him.

"I've been in contact with the hostages. Although a bit thirsty and hungry and complaining of the cold over there, they are alive and well..." He could see relief wash over her face and for a moment he could tell she struggled not to cry. He talked on hoping she wouldn't break down in front of her people. "We have a transport tube with emergency supplies on its way to them now. I told Captain Riker we're working on a cure to trade for their release. He seemed in good spirits. He even joked about being surrounded by beautiful women."

She smiled at that. "Leave it to him to turn being captured by the Borg into an opportunity for flirting with the opposite sex."

Picard heard some appreciative chuckles in the background. He smiled as well.

"Excuse me, my Captain," Ship said. "We have a problem."

Picard waved to mute the transmission. "Go ahead."

"I cannot locate Shea."

"What? She didn't get on that tube, did she? Can you get a tractor beam on it?"

"Too late. The tube has already reached its destination. I do not detect her presence on it, however, I do not detect her anywhere. I suspect that she may be camouflaged."

Picard reached out to her in his mind. _Where are you?_

_Exactly where you suspect._

_I told you to stay on board._

_I am on board. Don't worry. They can't see me either. You just keep working on that cure while I watch over the hostages. Don't expect to hear from me for awhile._

Deanna was watching him. "What is the nature of your problem? Do you need assistance?" she asked.

He restored their side of the transmission. "No, thank you. It's just a vexing personnel issue."

She frowned at him. "I hope you're not withholding vital information."

He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't lest the Borg overhear. It then occurred to him that perhaps it was better she didn't know either. She wanted to make a trade for the hostages and might use this as an opportunity to gain their release.

"We're on the same side, remember?" he replied, "So how is our medical team doing?"

"There's not much to report yet, but I'm told they're making progress."

"Good. Keep me informed," he said and ended the transmission.

_You keep me informed too,_ he told Shea, but there was no response.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21 The Hostages and the Stowaway

After her brief mental exchange with Picard, Shea turned her attention fully to her current physical surroundings. Her camouflage suit blocked her body signal and blended her seamlessly into the background so she felt relatively safe from discovery as long as she remained silent. The lid of the tube opened. Two drones appeared, and began unloading the supplies packed around her. She carefully pulled herself away and up by the lid, then flipped herself over to silently touch her feet down on top of the tube's far end, making sure not to touch the drones or make any noise in the process. She recognized the cargo bay and knew where she was in relation to the rest of the vessel, but without being tied to the hive mind, she had no idea where to find the hostages. She would have to trust that these drones had been instructed to deliver the supplies to the humans on board. She quietly reached up and grabbed onto the metal structure above her then pulled herself through and on top. From here she could crawl along and look down into the walkways without getting in anyone's way. The last thing she wanted was for a drone to brush up against her unseen presence and wonder why.

The drones soon had the supplies loaded onto a floating cart and one of them began pushing it through the corridors. She scurried after him on all fours, making sure she didn't lose him. A pipe beneath her palm gave a little under her weight and squeaked. The drone stopped and looked back and up. She froze and held her breath as he peered in her direction. The drone stepped directly beneath her and reached a hand toward the slightly bowed pipe under her palm. She shifted her fingers enough to avoid his reaching ones to let him press upward on the pipe, testing it and making it squeak again. After several squeaks, he paused for a moment, no doubt reporting it as a maintenance problem, then he moved on again with the cart. She decided she needed to give him a longer lead, lest another squeaky pipe give her away. He turned right, kept going, then left, then right again, another right, and then he disappeared. _Uh oh_. She hurried down the corridor pausing at each opening listening for footfalls. She heard nothing for several tense moments, but then came the sound of metal grating across metal, like a sliding door. She spun around and headed back. Now she heard voices, human voices. Drones didn't talk to each other, at least not out loud. She'd found the hostages.

She hurried ahead and saw them now, inside a caged area. The drone slid the cart against the metal grate, stepped back, then touched a control panel. Another grate began to slide closed between him and the cart. Shea realized if she wanted to be with the hostages, she had to get through that opening before the door finished closing. She shot forward, landing on the pile of supplies, making a soft thump. The drone turned toward the cart, but the hostages were right behind her with their hands on the interior grate, so she hoped the drone would conclude the sound had come from them. He stared for a moment, focusing and refocusing his optical implant. She worried for a moment that he might detect some anomaly there, but finally he turned back to the control panel and the interior grate slid open between the cart and the supplies. She moved out of the way, so no one would touch her as they reached for the boxes. She pulled herself up into the superstructure above again, and observed everything and everyone below her.

"If I could get my hands on him...," Worf growled as the drone walked away.

"I sympathize," Riker said, "but it would be suicide and you know it. Now help me get these boxes open."

"What was that odd sound just before the outer door closed?" Worf asked as he tore open a box.

Riker shook his head. "I'm not sure. I couldn't really tell where it came from." He pulled out bottles of water and passed them on to the women, who immediately opened them and began gulping the contents. "Hey, slow down there. Take small sips."

"This one has clothing and blankets," Worf said. He pulled out a jacket and felt the pockets.

"Looking for something?"

"A phaser would be nice."

"A phaser could get us all killed."

"I'd settle for a knife."

Riker just smiled and opened another box. "Medical kits. Better treat that nasty looking cut under your eye," he told Worf.

"I'm fine," Worf replied, despite the fact that his right eye was badly swollen.

Riker threw him a kit. "That's an order, Commander. Ah ha… rations," he said and pulled out some small blue wrapped sticks from another box. "Did you know these nutrition bars were invented by Dr. Julian Bashir? They're not bad really. Taste like candy."

Worf frowned. "I do not enjoy sweets."

Riker dug deeper to retrieve a brown colored bar and tossed it to him. "That one's beef flavored." He passed the food boxes back to the women. Some began to eat, while others pulled on jackets and wrapped blankets around themselves.

"Thank you," a blonde woman said to Riker.

He nodded to her and smiled encouragingly.

Shea observed the fifteen women silently from above, taking note of their facial features, trying to see resemblances among them. Some had dark hair, some had light. They were all young adults, seemingly in good health and physical condition. She didn't recognize any of them, but that didn't mean anything. They could still be related to her. One brown haired woman cried softly in the corner while a companion wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Shea frowned at the crying in disapproval, then she saw the young woman was clearly pregnant and her opinion did an about-face.

Riker walked over to the sobbing woman and crouched before her. "Here," he said, handing her a bottle and a couple bars of rations. "You'll feel better with some food in your stomach."

"Like a fatted calf before the slaughter," she said bitterly.

"You're going to get out of here. We all are. Starfleet is negotiating for our release, so all you have to do is hang in there and trust it's going to be all right." He smiled at her and patted her on the shoulder. She nodded and tried to smile back at him, but looked far from convinced.

Not surprising, Shea thought to herself. There were already five of them dead and gone. _If I were her, I wouldn't believe him either. _She didn't think anything here was going to change for awhile. The doctors had till tomorrow to come up with a cure. But after that, things could get dicey. Might as well get some rest in the meantime. She spread herself flat on the crossbars, lay her head on her hands, closed her eyes, slowed her breathing and told herself to go to sleep, and then she did.

#

Picard was not a happy man. Shea had ignored him and gone off on her own to the Borg ship. And now he couldn't get her to answer his mental calls. Chances were she was fine and otherwise occupied or simply ignoring him. Or she was unconscious, or dead, or worse… assimilated. No one except he and Ship knew she was missing and he intended to keep it that way. God forbid the Borg should learn they had an invisible stowaway on board. The very person they were hunting for. The search for a cure for the pathogen was well underway and Dr. Crusher reported they were close, but the clock was ticking and unsympathetic to their need for it to slow down. Exactly on the twenty-fourth hour, the Borg ship hailed him.

"The agreed time has ended, Locutus of Borg. We will accept in trade a cure or the one known as Shea."

"You must extend the deadline another twenty-four hours. We are close to finding a cure."

"Unacceptable. We will recommence testing."

"That is equally unacceptable. If the women hostages die, there will be nothing to trade."

"There will still be the males, and we will obtain more females. Until you offer a better solution, we will continue testing."

"We will not allow you to take more hostages."

"Threats are irrelevant. Resistance is futile. We shall take what is needed for the good of the collective."

#

Shea woke to the sound of the metal grates sliding open. Three drones entered the holding cell, while others stood outside with weapons drawn. One drone approached the pregnant woman and grabbed her, ignoring the protests of her companions. When Will and Worf tried to intervene, the other two Borg threw them aside. Taking advantage of the scuffle, Shea dropped to the ground and quickly scooted outside the cell as the Borg exited with the woman in tow. The grating closed again leaving Worf and Will, now back on their feet, yelling in anger, but of course the drones paid no heed.

Shea followed the Borg drone dragging the woman along. He turned and left the others to walk down a corridor of holding stations. The woman struggled against him without success. He reached an empty station and lifted her toward it, ignoring her screams in protest. Shea knew the mechanical attachments would snap into her flesh upon contact connecting her to the hive and exposing her to the pathogen, undoubtedly killing her in the process. There was no choice. Shea knocked the drone aside and spun the screaming pregnant woman around, grabbed her wrists from behind and moved her like a puppet into a fighting stance. The drone turned back to see the large bellied woman facing him. No doubt the woman's facial expression was one of pure shock, but Shea couldn't see it.

The drone came toward them and Shea moved from behind the woman to kick him in the head. When he spun, she pulled out the connector to his cortical node and he fell to the floor. Two more drones stepped out of their stations and walked toward them. She pulled the woman back making her half run. More drones exited their stations as they retreated together. Two more ahead cut them off and the woman screamed again freezing in place. Shea ran past her and deactivated the drones from behind just as they took hold of the woman, who gasped in surprise when they collapsed at her feet. Shea grabbed her wrist again pulling her over the downed drones into a staggering run back to the holding cell. She used the woman's hands to punch in the code to open the cell doors, then pushed her inside. Riker grabbed hold of her and she collapsed into his arms. Shea jumped to the ceiling and pulled herself up into the superstructure once more, just as the remaining drones following them arrived.

"What happened?" Riker asked, but the woman in his arms could only shake her head in shock and confusion. The drones approached then stood in front of the open cell, staring at the woman who had seemed to fight them off.

Shea knew the drones were conferring in the combined mind. She held her breath, hoping. When one drone turned aside and closed the grates locking all the hostages in again, Shea closed her eyes in relief. She'd bought them a little more time. This woman had behaved in a most unexpected manner. They would have to reassess. The only bad part was that it wouldn't work again. She sent a mental message to Picard.

_Running out of options here. Nearly lost another hostage. _

_Do what you can, but don't get caught. That's an order._

Shea knew the drones would soon be back to try again. They would not be delayed from their intention for long… not unless she found a way to distract them. Distraction was something she excelled at. In this case the best one she could think of was sabotage. She climbed higher into the superstructure, found a small opening she could barely squeeze through then headed for the main engines. She would have to move fast, hitting one major system after another, keeping them guessing. In doing so, they would soon recognize that they had an unseen saboteur on board and they would all be hunting for her. She would have to stay one step ahead. Trouble was, this was a closed system and there were a lot more of them than there were of her. Eventually, they'd corner her. She hoped that 'eventually' would be long enough for Picard to find a way to get them all out of here.

From the Bridge of the Redemption, Data noted some peculiar activity on the Borg ship.

"Captain, I am reading energy fluctuations in the main core of the Cube," he reported. "They appear to have lost power in the lower aft section." He paused reading his display. "Life support is off line on the upper ten levels. Odd. Now the lights have gone out in the entire ship. Life support restored to levels ten, nine, eight, seven… correction, they're back off again. Interior lighting is flashing on and off. Most peculiar. What would cause such widespread malfunctions in apparently unrelated systems?"

"Someone who likes to shake things up," Picard said.

Data looked over at him. "Someone with whom we are acquainted?"

"Intimately."

"I understand," Data said. "But I am not pleased."

"Nor am I. It was against my wishes."

"If she can get their shields down," Data stated, "transporting them out may then be possible."

Picard nodded. "She's trying. There are sophisticated failsafes in their system that have to be shut down from several points at once. She'll have to get to all them and it won't be easy. Ship, have Scotty report to the main transporter room. I want his hands on the controls. Be ready to lock onto her and the hostages at the first opportunity."

"Understood, but she will need to remove her camouflage," Ship replied.

"She knows that, but she'll have to wait until the last possible moment to do so. We'll have no margin for error."

Picard headed to the transporter room and Data continued to report the various malfunctions occurring on the Borg ship, seemingly without pattern. Apparently, Shea was trying to disguise her intentions with randomness. The various systems never seemed to fail at the same time, but flashed on and off, irregularly, as if suffering from spontaneously caused power outages. There was no continuity until suddenly there was. The shields went down.

"Got them," Scotty announced, locking on to the hostages' signals. Picard stood next to him watching the shapes of seventeen people take form simultaneously on the large transporter pad.

"Where is she?" Picard demanded.

"I don't have her signal yet. She must still be wearing the camouflage. Wait, there she is. Locking on."

The eighteenth shape was forming, but Picard could see something was wrong. And he could feel pain.

"The Borg are trying to transport her back. If we both keep a lock on her, it'll tear her apart," Scotty told him.

"Let her go!" Picard yelled, feeling the searing agony she was experiencing. And then it was gone, and so was she.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22 - Trading Places

Riker stepped off the transport pad, looking at the empty spot where Shea's form had almost materialized. "Was that Shea?"

Picard nodded grimly. "She got you out. Unfortunately she wasn't able to do the same for herself." He tapped his com badge. "Data, what is the status of the Borg Cube."

"Systems are coming back online. I believe they will be fully restored in a matter of moments."

"Under no circumstances are you to allow that ship to get out of our sight."

"Understood, " Data replied. "We are being hailed by the Borg."

"On my way," he replied. "Scotty, see to the care of these women."

"Aye. Come along, ladies. We best be off to sickbay to have you looked at."

Picard headed to the Bridge, with Worf and Riker dogging his heels.

"We never saw her," Riker said.

"She was camouflaged," he told him. "She was right there in the cage with you, watching over you all. She got that pregnant woman back to safety."

"That explains the poor girl's confusion. I'm surprised you let Shea sneak aboard."

"I didn't let her. She disobeyed my orders."

"Typical," Worf noted. "She is without discipline." Picard glared at him. "Good thing for us," Worf added.

When Picard walked onto the Bridge, he acknowledged the hail. "This is Locutus of Borg."

"Locutus, we acknowledge completion of the trade. You have the hostages and we have Shea. Our transaction is ended."

"It is not ended," he countered. "We'll soon have a cure for the pathogen. We will trade the cure for Shea."

"We must have proof of its effectiveness."

"Understood. And we in turn must have your assurance that she will not be exposed to the pathogen."

"Unable to comply. She has been assimilated."

He felt his heart clench at that word. "Did she survive?"

"Life signs are not registering."

As the transmission ended, Data regarded his Captain standing there in silence with his eyes closed, framed by the image of the Borg ship in the distance on the view screen.

"You do not appear to be in pain," Data observed. "Evidently, she lives still."

"Yes," Picard confirmed opening his eyes. "Our bond remains intact. She's alive, just barely. We need that cure."

Minutes later, Picard transported over to the Enterprise along with Riker and Worf. Deanna rushed into Will's arms the moment he stepped off the transporter pad.

"I'm all right," he told her, so she backed away and nodded.

"You'll have to be cleared by Dr. Crusher before resuming command," she told him.

"We need to see the medical team anyway," Riker replied and began walking. The others followed him quickly.

Deanna looked sideways at Captain Picard. "Thank you for making the exchange."

"Don't thank me. It wasn't my doing."

A moment later, the group entered Sickbay and found Crusher, Bashir and the EMH Doctor conferring in the lab. Beverly spun about, her blue eyes opening wide.

"Will, Worf, thank heaven. How did you-?" she started to ask, then seeing the grim look on Picard's face, stopped short.

"We're going to need that cure, Doctor," Picard told her firmly. "They still have one hostage and she doesn't have much time."

She nodded. "We're nearly there. The pathogen spreads almost instantaneously in a cascading sequence throughout the body, so there's no way to reverse it in someone already infected, but we do think we can prevent it from finding a foothold. The simulators on both ships confirm that this inoculation we've created should be effective, but of course we have no way to do a real life test without a living subject. And I can't very well ask anyone to volunteer."

"You have someone on board who might be willing to do just that in order to redeem herself," Picard said.

Will scowled in puzzlement.

"He's talking about Captain Kathryn Janeway," Deanna explained. "She deliberately violated the Temporal Prime Directive, which resulted in this pathogen being released into the collective. We have her here under arrest. We could offer her and her crew a full pardon in exchange."

"You'll need to get authorization first," Riker told her.

Deanna nodded. "I'll contact Starfleet, then I'll have security escort Janeway here to sickbay. Meanwhile, Dr. Crusher, would you examine Captain Riker for clearance to return to duty. I've been sitting in his chair long enough."

Beverly motioned him toward a biobed. "Right this way."

As Deanna and Will went in opposite directions, Dr. Bashir approached his captain.

"Am I right in concluding that you traded Shea for the hostages?" he asked.

Picard frowned in response. "Not intentionally, but the result is the same. I do intend to trade your inoculation for her release. I'll be counting on you to reverse whatever they've done to her when we get her back."

"If we get her back. If she survives exposure to the pathogen they'll know she's a cure. Why would they trade her for anything we can offer?"

"Because right now, they think she's dead and they're not far off. I don't know how long she can resist the pathogen or their probing. We have to hope she retains control long enough for us to convince them that your treatment is the more valuable option."

Julian took a deep breath and nodded. "This inoculation should work. We need a test subject to prove it though and that's asking a hell of a lot. It'll be a one-way trip."

"Yes, it will."

A few minutes later, Deanna reappeared followed by a security officer leading Captain Janeway into Sickbay. Deanna told the officer to wait outside. Janeway looked at them in puzzlement.

"I assume there was some purpose in bringing me here," she said.

Riker nodded to Deanna to go ahead. "We've been given authorization to offer you, your Doctor, and any other members of your crew who were involved, a full pardon in exchange for your cooperation," she told Janeway.

"Sounds promising. What is it you need?"

"The medical team has devised a way to immunize against the pathogen but we need a female test subject willing to be inoculated, then allow herself to be assimilated into the Borg collective."

Janeway blinked for a moment. "Assimilated! You don't ask for much, do you?"

"We're giving you the opportunity to redeem yourself and save your people from prosecution," Riker told her.

"It feels more like blackmail."

"It may prove to be more of an opportunity than you think," Picard said. "Initially, you would be the sole female aboard that Cube. Under the influence of a past queen, they were turned away from forcing assimilation on other life forms. Someone of your strong will and intelligence might well effect further changes in their behavior. You're being given the chance to make a significant difference in future events. You could alter their basic philosophy and reduce Borg aggression in the galaxy. Think how many lives might be spared."

"Amazing. You almost make it sound like an heroic adventure. You forget, I've met the Borg." Janeway shook her head at him. "I've long admired your skill at persuasion, Captain Picard, but I see now that you're not above exploiting others for your own benefit. What you're really asking me to do is to choose between two evils."

"I'm asking you to risk the unknown in the hope that many will benefit from your sacrifice. You may refuse, of course, but if you do, you'll end your days in disgrace, and condemn your crew to prison. It's up to you to decide which would be the greater evil."

"You do have a way of clarifying one's options." She sighed unhappily. "It appears that I find myself in the unenviable position of having to accept your offer."

The EMH Doctor who had been listening along with the others, hurried over to Janeway. "Captain, please reconsider. I am quite certain that not one member from the Voyager would object to going to prison if it ensured your safety."

"Thank you, Doctor, but I would be a poor Captain if I allowed that to happen. My decision stands."

Picard nodded. "I commend your courage, and your loyalty."

"As do I," Riker said. He turned to the medical team. "You have your volunteer, Doctors."

Dr. Crusher turned to Janeway. "Please follow us," she said and led her away along with the two other doctors.

"I take it you've been cleared for duty?" Deanna asked Will.

"Yes, I have. You'll forgive me if I relieve you of command."

"Gladly," she said with a smile.

Bye the time Janeway had been inoculated, Picard was back in contact with the Borg ship, this time from the Bridge of the Enterprise.

"Locutus of Borg, you are recognized," the combined voice responded.

"None of the females you have taken withstood the effects of the pathogen. Our doctors have inoculated a female and offer her to you in trade for the bodies of the deceased."

"We will dispose of the bodies in time and recycle them in our systems. There is no need to waste energy transporting them."

"It is our custom to retrieve the bodies of our dead. We insist upon an exchange."

"We see no logic in your request, but if the inoculated female proves resistant to the pathogen, we will comply."

"The Enterprise will transport her over to you now. We expect all six bodies in return."

"Agreed, as stated."

The communication ended.

"I notice you didn't name Shea," Riker said.

"No. I didn't want to single her out. As far as they're concerned she's just another casualty," Picard replied. "Whenever you're ready."

"Initiate transport," Riker ordered.

"Transport of Captain Janeway complete," Worf reported.

Picard frowned sadly. "Good luck, Captain. I pray you turn out to be stronger of will than I was."

Deanna looked at him in concern. "You must stop blaming yourself for the acts of Locutus."

"We all must live with our shortcomings, Counselor. I know mine better than most." He turned to Riker, "Hail them. It's been long enough."

When the channel reopened, Locutus spoke to them again. "We await transport of the bodies to us as agreed."

"We are assessing immunity. If she survives assimilation, we will transport the dead."

Another interminable five minutes passed without further communication.

"The female lives," the Borg announced. "Transporting now."

"Sickbay, stand by," Riker said.

"Standing by," Crusher acknowledged. "Transport complete," she reported a moment later. "We have six bodies."

Moments later, Picard entered Sickbay. Bashir had Shea on a biobed and it looked as if he and the EMH Doctor were already performing surgery. "Is she going to be all right?"

Beverly took him aside. "If I didn't know better, I would have said she was dead. No heartbeat, or brain activity registers on any of our equipment. The only reason we know she has to be alive is that you're still on your feet."

"Are you aware that she was pregnant?"

"Yes, Julian told me. I'm so sorry, Jean-Luc."

Picard took a deep breath then let it go again, and nodded in understanding. "But she's going to be all right."

"Julian thinks so. This EMH has experience with the methods they used to assimilate her. They're nothing like what we encountered with you. Apparently they're using 29th Century technology, the same as that mobile emitter he uses." She shook her head before continuing. "I can't believe how human this EMH has become. He seems to have a fully developed sentient personality."

"It's not without precedent. If you recall, we had a similar experience with Professor Moriarty in Data's Sherlock Holmes holodeck program."

"I remember. I'm glad Moriarty didn't have access to a mobile emitter. The idea of him walking around in our world is something I wouldn't want to contemplate."

Picard watched the two doctors at work over their patient. He could see she wore the deathly grey pallor of a Borg drone. "How long do you think it will take her to recover?" he asked.

"The surgery itself could take several hours. Then there are the effects of the pathogen to deal with. A lot of her cell structure is damaged. She has remarkable regenerative abilities, but she's got her work cut out for her. I really can't give you a time frame."

He nodded silently. He looked over at the tables holding five covered bodies. "What about these poor women?"

"We're working on identifying them, matching the remains with persons reported missing."

"Shea and I theorized that they might be her descendants."

"I suppose that would explain why they were targeted." She turned to one of her assistants working at a computer terminal. "Do you have the results yet?" she asked. The man nodded and handed over a PADD. Beverly scanned it, then sighed. "Jean-Luc, I'm sorry to tell you that one of the deceased appears to be related to you as well. She's been identified as Tamera Luanne Pike, great-great granddaughter of your time traveling alias, John Pike. She was thirty-one years old."

Picard's face hardened. "I've tried not to carry hatred in my heart for the Borg. To accept that they are simply an unpleasant fact that must be dealt with, rather than take their existence as a personal affront. But this is personal, this is very personal."

"I'm sure it feels that way to you, but not to them. These Pirate Borg just want to survive as a species. Now that they're immunized, I'm sure they'll move on."

"I wish I shared your certainty."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23 - More Demands

Twelve hours had passed since Captain Janeway had joined the Borg and Shea had been recovered. The Borg cube remained quietly orbiting Earth, and Shea remained unresponsive, dead for all intents and purposes. Picard knew neither condition was permanent, but he couldn't predict when things would change.

"Why aren't they leaving?" Riker asked, staring at the image of the Borg cube on the main screen of his Bridge. Picard stood nearby with his arms folded wondering the same right along with the rest of them. He shared an unhappy frown with Worf, who stood next to him. Although Worf was Riker's first officer, he still preferred manning the weapons station with his hands on the controls rather than sitting next to his captain.

"I think we all knew they might not be satisfied with having only one female," Deanna said, giving voice to the worry they all shared.

Picard nodded in agreement. "Shea insisted they no longer practice forced assimilation, but they may be willing to forgo that philosophy in order to rebalance their ratio."

Picard's com badge buzzed then spoke with Dr. Bashir's voice, "Captain, I'm getting some brain activity. I think she's close to regaining consciousness."

"On my way," Picard answered, relieved to hear some good news at last.

He immediately left the Bridge and headed for Sickbay. Julian smiled at him when he entered. The rectangular metal tank which held Shea's body was still closed up tight. He knew she was inside floating in a salt water solution infused with a pulsing broad spectrum electromagnetic field similar to solar radiation, a set-up designed by Bashir to help her heal faster.

"She won't like finding herself locked inside there," Picard said.

"Don't worry. As soon as her eyes open, the lid will too."

Picard went to stand beside the tank, but Julian put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"She'll be disoriented. Better give her some room."

Picard nodded, knowing he was right. He overruled his personal wish to be close, and stood back with Julian a good fifteen feet away. The outer door opened and Riker and Deanna entered.

"We wanted to be here and say thank you," Riker said.

"She's not likely to be in a very good mood," Julian replied. "You might want to come back later."

"No, stay, please," Picard told them. "Consider it a learning experience."

Julian smiled at him in surprise then looked back at the monitors. "Shouldn't be long now."

Within a few seconds, the tank lid flew open, water spraying everywhere as Shea leaped into the air, snarling like some demented beast, claws extended. She landed within a few feet of them, ready to attack. Her wild eyes moved from Picard to Bashir, then to Riker and Deanna, both of whom retreated several feet and looked ready to run out the door.

"You're safe," Picard stated clearly and firmly. "You're on the Enterprise."

She blinked at him for a moment, then she took a deep breath, and placed a hand on her lower belly. As she did so, a wave of sadness washed over him.

"I'm sorry…" he began.

"Stop that. They're fine."

"Oh," Picard said in amazement. "I just assumed."

"I promised I'd protect them, didn't I?" she snapped angrily.

"Yes. Yes, you did." He smiled in relief. He wanted to grab her and hold her, but knew it was too soon. Her claws were still extended.

Julian gingerly tossed a robe to her, "Thought you might want this."

She snatched it from the air, then focused on Riker and Deanna staring at her cautiously. "What's your problem?"

"No problem," Riker said. "We're just glad to see you've recovered."

"Yeah, I just bet you are," she snarled.

"That's enough of that," Picard told her. "You're among friends. Now put those claws away and behave yourself."

The claws finally retracted. He stepped forward and took her in his arms. She shuddered and buried her face in his chest. As he held her, he felt the true depth of the fear she had held before they had gotten her free. It had been a very close call.

"So how did you get me out of there?" she asked after a few moments.

"We traded for you for a cure as planned," Picard answered. "The Borg thought you were dead so it wasn't too hard to convince them the inoculation was more valuable."

She pulled away from him to stand alone again. "So they have immunization now, but no women?"

"They have one, a volunteer."

"Brave soul. I assume you talked her into it."

"I might have said something," he admitted.

"Anyone I know?"

"Captain Kathryn Janeway."

"That's a shock. Why would she volunteer?"

Deanna spoke up then. "It was preferable to prison."

Shea paused at that. "You blackmailed her into it?"

"She was given the opportunity to redeem herself and save her crew from prosecution for intentionally violating the Temporal Prime Directive," Picard explained. "Starfleet granted them all a full pardon."

"Like I said, you blackmailed her. Which probably means she's pissed as hell and most likely destined to become their Borg queen," she shook her head and smiled. "Good move."

"Not everyone is vengeful," Deanna told her sharply. "Captain Janeway is an honorable person. She would not intentionally harm anyone. I would never have made her that offer if I thought otherwise."

"Except it won't be her making the decisions over there. As their queen, her emotions will flavor their combined awareness, but she won't have her ethical personality intact anymore."

"How would you know?" Riker asked.

"Shea was assimilated and became a Borg queen," Picard informed them. "She was there when the Borg went after Earth in the past, when they targeted Data and myself."

"That was you? You wanted to destroy everyone?" Deanna asked her.

"No, of course not. I just wanted to go home. If I'd wanted everyone dead, you would have seen a blackened cinder when you glimpsed that altered Earth. Instead, if you recall, it was occupied."

"Almost as bad," Riker said.

"I believe the point she's trying to make is that we've never known the Borg to colonize," Picard explained. "They take what they want and move on. They live in space, not on planets. Their behavior was distinctly out of character. They had chosen to become a human hybrid and live on Earth, or would have, if we hadn't followed them back in time and put a stop to it." Picard thought about the Borg queen he had encountered, comparing his experience with what Shea was telling them. "However, I do remember the queen as being very much in charge. She told us what she was going to do and made good on her threats. She behaved as if she were making the decisions personally."

"As I recall, she also told you 'I am the beginning... the end. The one who is man_y._' It might seem as if she controls them all, but it's not that simple. She's just as much controlled by them. She brings order by providing a point where the combined minds in the collective focus into a single personality."

"And now Janeway will serve as that focal point," Picard concluded. "I trust she doesn't have access to classified information."

"No, that was another reason Starfleet allowed this to happen," Riker answered. "She'd been gone a long time and had been assigned for re-training. Moot now."

"How long since she was assimilated?" Shea asked.

"A little over twelve hours now," Riker answered.

"Seen any activity?"

"No, all's quiet, disconcertingly so," Picard said.

"But that's good. It means she's not queen yet."

"Why is that good? What are you thinking?" Picard asked suspiciously.

"For one thing, I'd like to get my camouflage suit back. They're not easy to come by. I know exactly where I left it, so-"

"Don't even think about returning there. We just got you out."

"Don't get excited. I'm just thinking I might be able to reach her mentally. One queen to another. I got out, maybe we can get her out, too."

"You had help."

"Yes, I had Ship, and now she has all of us."

"Hold on," Riker objected in alarm. "We've bought peace with her. If you get her out, we're no better off than before."

"They'll be needing more females whether Janeway's there or not. Why don't you ask for volunteers… real volunteers?"

"Who in their right mind would do that?" Riker asked.

"You might be surprised," Shea countered, then looked at Deanna. "Come on, Counselor, back me up here."

Deanna nodded reluctantly, "It's possible. People are drawn to cult like organizations for a variety of reasons, but mostly because they feel like misfits, disassociated from society. People need to belong to something, to find a sense of connection."

"Exactly, and it doesn't get any more connected than a hive mind. It'd be kind of like asking for mail order brides. Aren't there places where the male female ratio is skewed the opposite way? Women looking for men?"

"Men, yes, not drones," Riker said. "This is crazy."

"Hey, they're male. They have all the right equipment where it counts."

"I suppose you would know," Riker said.

"Yes, I would. What's your point?"

Picard stepped between them. "Let's not get personal. It can't hurt to put out a call for volunteers. We'll either get a response or we won't. If nothing else, it will show the Borg that we are at least attempting to meet their needs. That alone may buy us some time. If they turn aggressive again, we'll need to be ready."

Riker rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll put out the word, even though it'll make me look like a damn fool. No one is going to come forward. Maybe one or two screwballs at best."

"Wanna bet?" Shea asked, peering over Picard's shoulder. "I'll bet you that at least fifty women volunteer."

"You're dreaming."

"Make that a hundred, all of whom pass mental screening. No screwballs."

"You're on."

"Good. So what are we betting? And it better not be credits. I want something real. Something you have to do."

"You mean something you'll have to do," he countered.

"Okay… what have you got in mind?"

He started to smile, "I want that fancy new piano of yours."

"My piano?" She pouted. "I just had it made. Custom."

"I know," he said and smiled bigger.

"Fine. It's not like I'm going to lose anyway. And when I win, you're going to give me…," she looked at Deanna who scowled at her and shook her head in warning. "Don't shake your head at me. You have no idea what I'm going to ask for. Neither do you," she said to Picard who was also scowling at her. How could they, when she didn't know herself? She obviously couldn't ask for what she really wanted. "You're going to give me… " She searched for a moment, then it came to her, "your chair. For up to twenty-four hours I get to be acting Captain of the Enterprise."

"What? I can't do that. You're not even in Starfleet anymore."

"Technically, I am. I never retired. They marked me as missing in action and never closed the book. I'm still a Commander. Check the records."

"There's no way in hell I'm giving you command of this ship."

"It'd only be for a day, and you'd still be on board. What could go wrong?"

"Knowing you, you'd probably start a war."

"I promise not to. Besides, you'd have veto power. And it's not like I've never run a starship before."

He scowled uncertainly. "I don't know."

"Afraid I'll outshine you?"

"No, and I'm not worried about losing this bet either."

"Then it's a deal?"

He stared at her for a moment, then smiled confidently. "Deal. I'm really looking forward to getting that piano."

Picard shook his head at them both. "As if simply recruiting women for the Borg wasn't interesting enough."

After he and Shea returned to Ship, Picard prepared a missive directed to Earth, its colonies, and armed forces, asking for volunteers, then forwarded it to Riker for review. Picard worded it in a way to stir one's loyalty to Earth, the desire to preserve peace, and the hope of changing the course of future events throughout the galaxy by influencing the collective mind of the Borg. After reading it, Shea laughed that she was almost tempted to sign up herself.

Riker frowned instead upon reading the notice. "A little misleading, don't you think?" he asked from the screen in Picard's Ready Room.

"No," Picard countered. "Every word is accurate. These volunteers may very well save us."

"I notice you didn't bother to mention just how horrifying the process of assimilation is."

"Didn't think I needed to. It's well known. But feel free to add any graphic descriptions you care to."

"I will," Riker said. "I want these women to know exactly what's being asked of them."

"Agreed," Picard said. "They should be carefully screened and thoroughly vetted."

"Trust me, they will be," Riker assured him. "I'll revise this and send it out. We'll see if we get any response."

With that, the communication ended.

Picard looked at Shea who had been listening in. "You really think we'll get a hundred volunteers?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, probably more like a thousand. I was being conservative. I hate losing bets."

"And why on earth would you want to command the Enterprise?"

"Not sure I do, really. I just wanted to ask for something he wouldn't want to give me, and that's what popped into my head. I'll have to think what I want to do during those twenty-four hours. Let me know if you have any suggestions."

"What I would suggest is that you do nothing."

She laughed at that. "We both know that's not going to happen. It has to be memorable, but not so outrageous that he'll veto it. Oh well… I'm sure I'll be inspired when the time comes."

"No doubt," Picard replied wryly. "Meanwhile, there's this idea of yours to rescue Janeway. I was the one who suggested she volunteer. It seemed a natural fit. She violated the Temporal Prime Directive and started this whole mess. I'm not sure we should make the effort."

"Maybe not, but it occurred to me that if she stays over there, that means she never becomes an Admiral, never infects the Borg, and never destroys the central Queen and her transwarp hub.

"And you think they were intent on mounting another invasion?"

"Isn't that the general consensus?"

He nodded. "So to preserve this time loop she created, we need to get her out of there." He frowned and shook his head. "If you're serious about trying to establish a mental link with her, I would think you shouldn't wait much longer."

"Not quite yet, but you're right, timing will be crucial. Assuming she passes scrutiny, they'll put her in position as their queen, at which point I should be able to reach her telepathically, but it also has to happen before complete loss of her individual identity. It's a very narrow window."

"And unlike with you, I assume once it closes, it will be closed for good."

"Yes. It's not like with a drone, where the assimilation can be reversed. They surgically remove the parts of the brain containing personality and insert the Queen program. All the queens think alike. They're essentially duplicates of each other. Once that happens, Janeway will cease to exist and there will be no bringing her back."

He looked at her in shock. "Part of your brain was actually cut out?"

"It grew back," she said defensively.

"Did you know they would do that to you before you allowed yourself to become a Borg queen?"

"No, I found out the hard way, and for a long while, I didn't have any knowledge of who I had been before. But the missing parts of my brain kept regenerating and my individual personality kept trying to reassert itself. It took awhile before I finally found a way to compartmentalize my mind to keep both the queen personality and my own intact, operating side-by-side. That's when I started making changes and finally got free."

Picard scowled at her for another moment. "Is the reason you can make contact with her as a queen, because the queen personality still exists in you?"

"Yes," she admitted, "but it's buried deep. I suppose that's how I was able to tell that Borg drone to stay where he was."

"And he obeyed. Clearly, you can still exercise control over them."

"I reacted instinctively and was lucky it worked, probably because he was temporarily isolated from the hive. I wouldn't go making any plans based on the idea that they'll listen to me."

"Noted." Picard leaned back in his chair, considering what she had told him. "I suppose it's somewhat similar to what I still experience, being able to hear them, sense their presence. Dr. Crusher removed the exoskeleton and implants, but something of what they put inside me still remains, keeping me connected."

"Borg nanites in your blood stream. Mostly dormant, but when the collective draws near, they alert you."

He nodded. "Beverly offered a similar theory, but couldn't screen them out, even with a full transfusion."

"They hide in your tissues, and organs as well. I had them too. In my old body."

"Not in this one?"

"Don't think so. I can't hear the Borg anymore… not like you can, but sometimes, it gets a little confusing, since we're bonded."

He nodded his understanding. He found their connection comforting and wonderful, but at times a little confusing as well. In this quiet moment, he allowed himself to feel her presence now and how much he loved her, and recognized how close he'd come to losing her and their unborn children. He felt his repressed emotions coming to the surface, closed his eyes in defense and put his head into his hand. And then she was there, sliding into his lap, putting her arms around him.

"You scared the hell out of me," he said at last.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You take too many risks. You're overconfident, reckless-"

"Shhh… everything worked out. We're okay."

"I gave you a direct order to stay here. You can't be trusted."

"You can trust me to protect the people I love. I did what I had to."

She wasn't telling him anything he didn't know. His wishes and orders only went so far.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24 - Recruiting for the Borg

As Picard sat with his crew on the Bridge of the Redemption the next morning, Riker hailed them on a secure channel, and he looked unhappy.

"We're getting responses to the call for volunteers," he told them. "Deanna is supervising the screening process."

"So how many so far?" Shea asked.

He mumbled something in response.

"Excuse me? Didn't quite catch that."

He glared at her. "Eight hundred and forty-three… so far."

She whistled and smiled. "Aren't people remarkable?"

"They still have to get through the screening process. No screwballs, remember?"

"I'm not worried."

Picard intervened at that point. "Once you have some cleared, I'll open a dialogue with the Borg again. Keep us informed."

Riker nodded and ended the communication.

"I don't know why people keep taking you up on your bets," Picard commented.

"Probably because I lose just often enough to give them hope."

"Approximately five point four percent of the time," Data stated.

"I didn't know you were keeping track," she said.

"I keep track of everything involving this ship and crew. I consider it part of my job description."

"You never cease to amaze me, Data. Which is exactly why I love having you around."

Data smiled in response before turning back to his monitors. Meanwhile, Picard watched the image of the Borg ship on screen in its quiet orbit around Earth, worrying about the continuing threat it presented.

"Still no change?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"No change," Data confirmed.

Shea groaned in boredom. "This is like staring at a kettle waiting for it to boil. Come on, Jean-Luc, let's go for a run, or a swim, or something. You need a change of scenery. We both do."

He frowned in reluctance to leave the Bridge, but knew she was right. Staring at the Borg cube wasn't accomplishing anything except frazzling his nerves. A little exercise would be beneficial.

"Very well. Why don't you go set up that mountain you were running in the holodeck the day we took on Spock's rescue. I'll climb it with you."

"Good idea," she agreed and went on ahead.

When he arrived in Holodeck Two, he found himself under a hot sun standing at the base of the same towering cliff face he had seen before. This time, he looked for handholds and crevices that would give his feet purchase. He heard a whoop from above and looked up just in time to see Shea plummeting to the ground. She landed on her feet beside him.

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded. "Ready. But no sudden unannounced falls this time," he warned her.

She held a palm up. "I promise. I'm all grown up now."

"So I've noticed," he smiled.

"Hope you don't mind the heat," she said. "I wanted it to feel authentic."

"I'll manage," he said and removed his outer jacket.

He took hold of an outcropping, found purchase for his foot, and pulled himself up without back-up of a rope or an automated emergency transporter. One of the benefits of a holodeck was its failsafe. He could enjoy free climbing without worrying that his life might end abruptly. He began climbing steadily, focusing on each placement of his hands and feet. He continued upward, aware Shea was climbing as well, but the ascent was difficult so he paid her little mind. He continued working his way up continually, keeping his attention riveted on the rock face before him, until her hand touched his arm. He paused in his efforts and looked at her.

"So how do you like my mountain?" she asked.

"Challenging. Is it a faithful replica?"

"Yes, the view from the top was so spectacular, it stuck in my mind."

"I can see why," he said looking out across a vast plain of purple and green below. He could feel his fingers starting to grow numb and knew he needed to keep moving. As he searched for the next crack to dig into, her hand moved from his arm to his derriere.

"Hey, I'm trying to concentrate here," he protested.

"Just offering you a boost up. See that outcropping above you? It's big enough to sit on. It's the half-way point and a good place to catch your breath. If you lean out a bit, I can lift you to it. Then I'll swing up and join you."

"Fine." He leaned back into her hand and she pushed him up so that he could grab hold of the ledge. He pulled himself onto it, spun around and was able to sit comfortably with his feet dangling. He looked below to watch her swinging from one hand, first left, then right, then left again before letting go. Her arc took her high enough to latch on with her claws and she pulled herself up beside him. He laughed and shook his head.

"I don't know how the hell you do that. You're like a monkey."

"You should see me in trees. That's really fun."

He looked out at the view. "Where did you say this was?"

"I didn't, but it's Vulcan. Spock would recognize it. It's in a nature preserve not far from his home. Ironic that I was running it when you came to tell me he was in trouble."

"You must have had some inkling. Perhaps your bond with him remains intact just as he claimed."

"When did he say that?"

"Back when he came to help me… when I was having trouble dealing with our separation."

Shea frowned, remembering now what she had learned years later. "Oh, yeah. Deanna called him for you."

"She did. And I'll never forget the reason he gave for agreeing to help me. He said, and I quote, 'Because Shea chose you. She will always be bonded to you, just as she is to me. Together or apart, that connection remains. Shea would want me to help you.' That's also when he told me how he had raised our son to manhood, and made it very clear that he did not approve of my choices."

She shook her head. "He had no right to judge you. He sent me away too."

"You've never explained why."

"Because he wanted to be fully Vulcan and thought my presence interfered. Once Luke went away to school, Spock suggested I leave as well."

"Interesting. Especially since he also told me that finally learning to embrace his human half hadn't made him any less Vulcan."

"Well, good for him," she said, but her tone sounded bitter.

"You're still hurting."

She sighed. "No, not really. It's ancient history. But it is a little awkward having him around. If he seeks me out, I'll talk to him, of course, but so far he hasn't, which seems to confirm he still wants nothing to do with me."

"And yet he's chosen to stay with us here and help you."

"He likes a challenge. He's complicated and deeply divided. That's the trouble with mixing humanoid races and cultures I suppose. So much internal conflict. I was stupid to think I could fix that."

Picard smiled at her. "His loneliness drew you in, just as mine did. We must be like emotional black holes for you."

"That's not very flattering ," she objected.

"Maybe not, but I think it's true, at least on some level. Maybe the real problem was that Spock didn't believe the need was reciprocal."

"Do you?"

He nodded. "I have no doubt that I am equally needed." Just then a shadow crossed over them and he looked up to see dark clouds rolling in fast. "What's this?"

"A storm that caught me unaware. I'd been wanting to climb this mountain for awhile but Spock insisted I take no chances, that I wear a communicator and an emergency transporter, and wait for the perfect day."

The sky grew ominously dark within seconds, and suddenly warm rain and wind rushed at them. Picard felt the turbulence trying to suck him off the mountain, and he dug his hands into the rocky ledge to hang on.

"You experienced this?" he yelled to be heard.

"Yes, and it gets better," she yelled back.

A moment later, he felt the hairs on his head and arms lift. The air around them crackled with static electricity. _Merde!_ he thought, instinctively throwing an arm in front of his face, and then it hit them. Almost. A ball of lightning cracked in a deafening explosion, splintering into blinding white lines all around them. The holodeck failsafe program had kicked in to protect them. The lightning came and went in an instant, but it took a few moments for Picard's vision to return and the echo in his ears to fade. He looked at the clouds rolling away now revealing the hot sun again. Although drenched by the rain, he knew he would soon be dry.

"Storms move in and out fast on Vulcan," she said. "So much for the perfect day."

"You were struck by that lightning?"

She nodded. "Then I bounced off a few rocks on my way down and landed right about there, or so they told me." She pointed far below to a grouping of boulders on the ground. "Completely fried my transporter. Spock came hunting for me, when I didn't show up. Apparently, I was quite a mess."

"Why on earth would you want to be reminded?"

She shrugged. "Maybe to remember that playing it safe is an illusion. So next time, when it seems like I'm being reckless, and you're looking for the perfect day, remember the lightning." She smiled and stood, then began climbing again.

He understood her meaning, but found it far from comforting. In short order, he started up again.

The view from the top proved the long ascent worth every dubious moment. He could see why it had stayed with her. From here they had a 360 degree view of the surrounding horizon.

"It's spectacular, all right," he agreed, "but obviously you didn't see this on your first climb."

"No, a few months later. Spock was incensed that I would even consider going up again," she said smiling at the memory. "Told me I was hopelessly illogical… his strongest condemnation."

"So I take it he's not a fan of rock climbing."

"Doesn't see the point. I told him there wasn't any point, and that was exactly the point. Which really made him crazy."

Picard chuckled. "I can imagine."

"You know who did enjoy rock climbing though? You're friend, Captain Kirk. Something you two have in common."

Picard nodded. "I read that about him. He was quite the risk taker - no back up."

"A true adrenaline junkie. Always had to go on the away missions, despite protocol. Made Spock crazy with his illogic. Guess being around me was no better. And Sarek despised me. I can't really blame Spock for asking me to leave."

Feeling her sadness, Picard stepped close and put his arm around her. He decided to change the topic.

"I was thinking as long as we're here orbiting Earth, once things return to normal, we should go visit my sister-in-law. I'd like the two of you to become acquainted."

"That's sweet. I'd love that."

She turned toward him and he kissed her. He enclosed her in his arms, and their soft kiss grew more passionate. He soon envisioned himself making love to her on this mountaintop, but just then his com badge buzzed in interruption and Data's voice followed.

"Captain Riker informs us that they have twenty-three volunteers cleared and on board. He would like to know if you are ready to re-establish communication with the Borg."

"Affirmative. On my way," Picard replied. He sighed and separated himself from her.

"Ship, end program," Shea ordered. The vista disappeared and the holodeck grid took form around them showing the exit.

"You're not going back there, are you?" Ship asked as they walked toward the Bridge.

"No, I'm not. That's not the plan," Shea replied.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?"

"I'm not the only one you frightened," Picard commented. "Try to remember that, the next time you're tempted to go AWOL. Some lightning can be predicted."

Upon entering the Bridge, Picard noted Spock sitting at the Science station, reminding him of the conversation he had just shared. Shea sat in her chair with no acknowledgement of Spock's presence. Picard nodded to Data to hail the Borg, audio only.

"Locutus, you are recognized," came the response.

"I promised you my assistance. We have twenty-three more female volunteers inoculated against the pathogen, waiting to be assimilated. We offer them to you in the spirit of cooperation as you have been taught."

"Acknowledged. We stand ready to receive them. You may initiate transport."

"Cooperation infers reciprocity," Picard reminded them.

"Understood. What is it that you seek in return?"

"The return of Captain Janeway and your departure."

"Why do you seek the return of the original female freely given?"

"She did not freely volunteer herself. She was coerced, an error we seek to correct."

The Borg remained silent for a long moment. "Difficult," came the answer at last. "A suitable replacement would be required. The other females must be assessed."

Picard muted his side of the transmission. "That's not exactly a promise."

"No, but it's probably the best you could hope for at this point," Shea replied. "If they think she's queen material, they won't give her up easily. They'll either need a better candidate, or to change their assessment of her."

Picard nodded and focused on the most vital part of this negotiation. He opened the channel again. "Understood. However, your departure from this solar system is non-negotiable. You must leave."

"We agree to leave when we have rebalanced. We require a minimum of five hundred females. Will you cooperate?"

Picard cursed internally, but kept his voice calm. "We will provide volunteers only. We cannot guarantee a number. You will accept what we offer then depart."

"We will accept what you offer then determine if it proves sufficient for our survival. If so, we will then depart."

This wasn't going as well as he'd hoped, but it could be worse. "Prepare to receive the volunteers we have so far." He turned to Data. "Tell the Enterprise to transport them over to the cube now."

Data nodded and sent the message. A few moments later, he announced, "Transport complete."

Picard sighed and shook his head sadly. "I never thought I'd see the day when I would willingly turn people over to the Borg."

"They did volunteer," Data reminded him.

Picard nodded, but did not look any happier. "In response to my encouraging them to do so. Twenty-three is bad enough. Now the Borg are insisting on five hundred. I hate being party to this."

"The cause is just," Spock stated. "The needs of the many outweigh those of the few. Five hundred may seem like a large number, but it pales in comparison to the billions lost in previous conflicts with the Borg."

"So now we stoop to paying them off. Bribing them to leave us alone. They're no better than thugs and we their submissive victims." The bitterness in Picard's assessment was palpable and shocked his bridge crew into silence.

"Maybe so," Shea said after a moment, "but I prefer to think of it as infiltration behind enemy lines. The more contact they have with humans, the more they're affected. Their thinking, their attitude… it's changing. Here you are negotiating with them. Something that would have been impossible, not so very long ago."

"Humanity is highly influential," Data concurred, "which is precisely why I seek to emulate it."

Shea smiled affectionately at him in response. "Data, you don't need to emulate anyone. You're completely adorable just the way you are."

Data glanced self-consciously around at the others, then looked back at his monitors. He probably would have blushed if he'd been capable of it.

Picard smiled then, grateful for the change in mood. Shea was right; he needed to view this in a more positive light.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25 - Women for the Borg

Riker scowled in response to Shea's smirking face on the screen in his ready room. She was using a deeply encrypted communication channel which would thoroughly mask her image and voice to anyone trying to listen in, just in case the Borg were monitoring them.

"So how are those volunteers stacking up?" she asked.

Obviously, she knew full well they already well exceeded the one hundred women that she had bet upon. He avoided putting a number out there.

"We're working as fast as we can getting them through the screening process. About half were eliminated in the initial sweep due to age, fitness, or medical history, but the rest have to be interviewed." He shook his head in disbelief. "I can't understand it. What the hell is wrong with these women?"

Shea shrugged. "Maybe you've just lived a bit too sheltered."

"Me? Sheltered? What are you talking about?"

"You're always surrounded by Starfleet personnel, the crème-de-la-crème of humanity, all leading healthy, confident, purposeful lives."

"You don't need to tell me there are a lot of lonely unhappy people out there, but this is just sick."

"If these women are willing to sacrifice themselves for the good of humanity, they deserve praise, not judgment, " Shea told him firmly. "Make sure you treat them with respect."

"We're showing them every courtesy and thanking them repeatedly for coming forward."

"Good. I just hope you're not rolling your eyes while you're doing it."

"Deanna won't let me," he said and smiled.

"Good for her. So how is she doing by the way?"

"Better. That little Borg scare of mine helped put things in perspective."

"Glad to hear it."

He shook his head and started to chuckle. "Speaking of which, I had a lot of fun trying to explain to that young lady how she managed to fend off all those drones singlehandedly. Wish I could have seen that. She wants to thank you herself." He grew serious again. "And so do I."

She waved dismissively. "Don't worry about it."

"I will worry about it. And I'm thanking you."

"Fine. You're welcome. Feel better now?"

He rolled his eyes.

"As long as we're being so polite, am I supposed to apologize for getting carried away the other day?" she asked.

His mood changed from annoyance to embarrassment. "That's probably not something we should talk about."

"I thought maybe you'd like to clear the air. Figure out where things went wrong?"

"No, I don't think that's a good idea. We made a mistake, that's all. Let it go at that. Just forget it ever happened. Please."

"So no discussion? No follow up? No chance to make it all better? Maybe if we got together-"

"No. Stop it, right now. Just stop."

"I'm starting to sympathize with Ship when she complains how people refuse to discuss certain topics." Shea stared at him for a moment. "All right, fine. On to something new then. What do you think my first order of business should be when I take over the Enterprise? I'm open to suggestions."

Riker leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "I can't believe I made that deal with you."

"Well, you did, and I'm holding you to it. Come on. It'll be fun."

"I hate to find out what you think will be fun."

"Well, you're going to. Count on it."

He sat back up and looked at her. "I agreed to twenty-four hours, that's all. I didn't say which twenty-four hours. They'll be of my choosing."

"Fine, no problem. You just let me know when and I'll be there."

"Terrific." He sighed and ended the transmission.

He wondered if there were some clever way to get out of holding up his end of the bargain. Otherwise, how the hell would he explain this to Starfleet? He almost envied Jean-Luc right now - having no superiors demanding he account for his actions. Looked like he'd have to choose between dismaying a few admirals or reneging on a bet with Shea. He didn't have to ask himself which of the two would be more dangerous. Besides, it was only for twenty-four hours, and he'd have veto power. How bad could it be? Not a good question to contemplate, and not one that required an immediate answer, so he decided to shelve it for now.

A few hours later, Riker met in the Observation Lounge with the medical staff conducting the screening process. He was surprised to see the EMH Doctor there. He and Beverly had their heads locked together in conversation as he entered. They sat upright again and turned to him.

"Are we anywhere close to meeting their demands?" he asked.

"A lot closer than expected," Beverly replied. "We've cleared four hundred and twenty women in all." She nodded at one of her assistants who passed him a PADD listing the women's names and descriptions.

"But still eighty short," he said, looking at the list. He wasn't sure whether to feel elated they had come so close or worried that it still wasn't enough. "Any borderline cases that you might be willing to squeeze through?"

"We've already squeezed hard, believe me," she said. The EMH Doctor and their medical assistants mumbled in agreement.

He frowned but understood. "Then let's hope Locutus can convince them to settle for close and move on. If not, you'd better be prepared to squeeze even harder." His medical staff shared unhappy looks but offered no argument.

All the available women were transferred aboard the Borg ship and Picard remained locked in negotiations with the Borg for some time thereafter. Riker waited for word. Dr. Crusher and the EMH Doctor stood on the Bridge too, waiting to hear. Finally, they were hailed by the Redemption and the screen showed a close up image of Captain Picard.

"They're not backing down from five hundred," he informed them. "According to their calculations, that is the absolute minimum number required. They're threatening to take women at random to make up for the missing eighty if we don't offer a solution soon. I understand you screened out half of the volunteers due to age or medical history. Can you relax your guidelines any further?"

"If we relax them anymore, there won't be any at all," the EMH Doctor objected. "You'd be sending over the aged, the infirmed, and the hopelessly demented."

"And that's a problem?" a woman's voice asked off-screen. Picard scowled and turned aside, apparently toward the source of the uninvited input.

"Whoever said that obviously has no scruples whatsoever," the Doctor accused the unseen person.

"You're that walking hologram, aren't you?" she said.

He scowled in reply. "I am equipped with a mobile emitter."

"Are you merely projected light or are you solid like in a holodeck?'

"I have atomic substance."

"Does that mean you can be assimilated?"

He scowled deeper. "In a manner of speaking. Why do you ask?"

"How many of those emitters do you have? Can they be replicated? Are they specific to your programming?"

He turned away from the view screen to Captain Riker. "Why am I being interrogated? And who is that annoying woman?"

Picard finally turned back and held up a hand. "Give us a moment," he said and the sound went dead.

Riker thought he knew where this might be going. He looked at the EMH. "So are there more of those emitters?" he asked.

"I have several back up ones, should they be needed."

"Could you make more? Like say eighty of them?"

The Doctor looked surprised at the implication. "I'm not sure I approve of what you're suggesting."

Just then the sound from the transmission returned.

"You'll have to tell us if this is possible," Picard began, "but it has been proposed that we use anatomically correct holograms as volunteers."

"But they're seeking women for procreation," Dr. Crusher said. "How would that work?"

They saw Picard open his mouth to reply, but the unseen woman talked over him. "Just put unfertilized eggs within replicated ovaries in them. That's really all the Borg would need."

The EMH looked incensed. "Who is that?"

Dr. Crusher put a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "I'll explain later. Is what she suggesting even possible?"

"Possible? Yes, I suppose. But ethical? Hardly. I won't become a Dr. Frankenstein."

"Not even to save the human race?" the woman asked.

"That's a farfetched assertion."

"Then how about to rescue Captain Janeway?"

"Now you're just toying with me."

"Believe me, you're not nearly interesting enough. If the task is beyond your ability, just admit you can't do it and we'll forget the whole thing."

"I am perfectly capable of constructing these monstrosities."

"Good. Then do it fast."

"Now she's ordering me around," the Doctor said in amazement. "I don't answer to her."

"No, you don't, Doctor," Riker agreed. "You answer to me. If you can do this, then do it. Dr. Crusher will assist. If you need engineering help, Mr. La Forge is at your disposal. You have your orders."

"Keep us informed," Picard said, and cut the communication. He scowled at Shea. "Can't remember when I've felt quite so superfluous."

"Sorry. Guess I got carried away."

"Yes, you certainly did. Data told you there's a good chance the Borg have broken our encryption codes. They probably heard every word. The point of keeping you off-screen just now was so that they wouldn't pick up on your being alive. They could just as easily recognize your voice pattern."

Shea nodded. "They'll know soon enough anyway. Once I make contact with Janeway - one queen to another."

"And you just announced that you intend to extricate her. How was alerting the Borg to that, helpful?"

"Um…" She paused and blinked. "Well…"

"Good lord. That was a slip? I thought maybe you had some double dealing scheme in mind you hadn't mentioned yet."

"No, not really. I was just so focused on convincing that irritating Doctor to cooperate. He's awfully opinionated for a glorified hologram. And he had the nerve to call _me_ annoying."

Picard was tempted to tell her he was in complete agreement. Instead, he held back thinking how every so often her usually brilliant intellect seemed to go on vacation, and he wondered if it had anything to do with Data's claim that her time displacement experiences were a source of disability. Was this why she relied so heavily on his judgment? He didn't know, so he simply said, "I think we need to work on our rescue plan."

He called in Data, Dr. Bashir and Scotty to join them, and the five of them bandied about alternative methods of pulling Janeway free of the Borg. The plan they settled on would take precision timing, but it seemed the most likely to succeed.

"Doctor, I want you to transport over to the Enterprise and explain our plan in person. It is not to be discussed by anyone over the com channels, not even fully encrypted. I'm taking no chances. Is that understood?" When the others nodded, he ordered, "Make it so," and they each went about their given assignments.

Two hours later, Bashir contacted them from the Enterprise on an open com channel. "Captain, we have the additional volunteers cleared for the Borg."

"Excellent. I'll let them know," Picard replied. He turned to Shea. "Are you ready?" She nodded back, then closed her eyes. He knew she was reaching out in her mind to Janeway, queen to queen. "All right, everyone. Here we go." He opened a channel to the Borg cube, knowing the Enterprise would be listening in as well.

"This is Locutus of Borg. We have procured eighty more females for you."

"You have created holograms carrying unfertilized eggs."

"Correct. Obviously you have been monitoring our communications. Will you accept the holograms?"

"If they will serve us for purposes of procreation, we will accept them. Make no attempt to retrieve the female you knew as Captain Janeway. She has been selected. You may transport only the eighty."

"Understood," Picard replied evenly. "Enterprise, begin transport."

"Acknowledged," came Worf's response. "Transporting now."

A few moments later, the Borg hailed them again.

"Shea is communicating with our candidate. Stop her or we will open fire."

Picard smiled at the threat. "You'd have to find us first."

"We will target the Enterprise instead. She must stop. You have been warned."

"Understood." Picard put a hand on Shea's arm and she opened her eyes. "They've threatened Enterprise." She nodded and he felt her withdraw her mind from Janeway's.

"I've stopped her," he told them.

Another transmission came in from the Enterprise. "Transport successful," Worf announced.

"Thank you, Mr. Worf," Picard said, then spoke to the Borg again. "You have now received a total of five hundred females. We have cooperated fully and fulfilled your requirements. In the spirit of mutual cooperation, we ask that you now depart from this solar system."

"Agreed, Locutus. We will depart." Within minutes, the Borg cube engines came online, powering up, and they began moving away from Earth orbit. Picard nearly held his breath, fearing they would turn around. Instead to his relief, they grew smaller and smaller in the screen and finally disappeared from view entirely.

"They are continuing to accelerate," Data reported, " He waited another few minutes. "I can no longer detect their presence on the long range scanners."

Picard exhaled in relief. He hailed Dr. Bashir on the Enterprise. "I take it the transfer went as planned?"

"Smooth as silk," Julian replied. "She's in surgery now, expected to make a full recovery. They don't seem to need me over here anymore, so I'm coming home. See you all shortly."

Picard smiled and terminated the communication.

Picard put his hand back on Shea's arm. "Well done. You shielded Janeway's mind from the hive long enough for us to make the transfer and hide it from them."

"I'm beginning to think when Geordi and Scotty get together, they could exchange a mountain without anyone being the wiser," she smiled in reply.

"I wonder how long it will be before those Borg realize they have a hologram for a queen," Sakonna said.

"With enough DNA to register as Janeway and Shea's queen mind programmed into it, maybe they never will," Picard said. "I'm hoping it will work well enough for their purposes that even if they do figure out what we've done, they won't care."

Shea grimaced and rubbed her forehead. "Think I'll take a walk."

Picard frowned watching her go, knowing she felt disconcerted by these brushes with the collective mind of the Borg, a disturbing reminder of the time she had lost there and the destruction to others in which she had participated. But he also knew that he could offer her little comfort - he had similar specters of his own haunting him.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26 - Cardassian Herbs and a Hookah

Shea wandered through Ship's corridors, not really paying attention to where they led. She just felt like moving, finding something to distract herself. She didn't want to think about her time with the Borg, and how close she had come to becoming a part of them again. And now she had a headache - probably a side effect of holding back the combined mind of the Borg collective that had been so intent on erasing Janeway's personality. At least, she wanted to believe that was the cause. She supposed Julian could give her something in Sickbay, but knew from experience that it would make her feel slow and groggy. The holodeck was always an excellent source for distraction, of course, but she'd have to program something and that required actual thought, so instead she just kept moving mindlessly without direction, climbing up some ladders and shimmying down others. At one point, she found herself down below in the storage area. She read the descriptions on the ends of the large metal containers stacked high on the shelves as she walked along…Phasers, Batteries, Medical Supplies, Emergency Rations, Replicator Proteins, Miscellaneous.

_Miscellaneous?_ She climbed up and popped the unit lid open to peer inside. She saw smaller boxes of this and that - handlights, PADDs, art supplies, books, Cardassian herbs… She paused at the last one. Wasn't that what Bleton was complaining to Scotty about the other day? Something about Ship getting stoned on second-hand smoke? So who was messing around with this stuff anyway? She pulled out a small bag, opened it and sniffed, concluding it smelled pretty good. She sniffed again and again, then started to smile as she felt her headache recede. Hmmm….

"Shea, what are you doing?" Ship asked.

"I found your secret stash," she replied, and sniffed even deeper. Not only was her headache going away, her mood was improving in general. "You've been holding out on me."

"That is not mine," Ship said. "It belongs to Crewman Yates."

"Yates, … oh yeah, that cute new guy we recruited last month, working in Operations with Data. How's he doing so far?"

"His reviews have been positive to date."

"So was he the one with the hookah?"

"Not anymore. Scotty confiscated it, along with those herbs. You shouldn't be smelling them like that."

"Actually I think I should. They smell really good, and I'm starting to feel a whole lot better. They're actually helping my headache go away. So what happened to that hookah?"

"I believe it is stored in that same container."

"Is that so?" Shea dove deeper into the box, digging around. In a moment, her fingers locked onto a tall stemmed vase with a flexible tube coming out of it. She pulled the thing free and looked at it. "You mean this?"

"Yes, that's it."

She tapped her com badge, "Shea to Crewman Yates. Would you come down to the storage area please? I have a question for you."

While she waited, she kept breathing in the aroma of the herbs in the bag, letting the last of the headache go, feeling her tension depart and her mood lift. A few minutes later she heard footfalls approaching. She saw Yates below her pausing and turning about.

"Up here," she said. When he looked up, she waved the hookah at him. "Is this yours?"

He frowned unhappily. "Mr. Scott already lectured me. I haven't touched it since."

"Will you show me how it works?"

"I… I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Nonsense." She jumped down beside him holding the hookah and the bag of herbs. "It's an excellent idea."

"You're not going to get me in trouble are you?"

"If I do, it'll be worth it."

He tried backing away, but she closed the gap. He looked spooked, like he wanted to run and she didn't want him to, so she kissed him. When she pulled her lips away, she knew he wasn't going anywhere.

"Come on now, be a dear and show me how this thing works."

"Okay," he said and accepted the hookah she handed to him. "It just needs some water." He stepped to a dispenser in the wall and filled the container partway. "Then you put the herbs in the top here," he explained as he demonstrated. "Hit this button on the side, then wait a minute."

As she waited, he stared at her. She probably shouldn't have kissed him, she thought abstractedly, but it didn't feel important. Instead, she smiled, appreciating how cute he was. A little vapor seeped out catching her attention. "Does that mean it's ready?"

He nodded. "Yeah, you just breathe in through the tube."

"Show me," she said.

He put the end to his mouth and sucked in a lungful, holding it for a long moment, then he let it out again. He passed it to her.

She did as he had, breathing it in. She felt her thoughts swirl faster. She couldn't even remember what had been bothering her before. She sucked in through the tube again and started to laugh, then his mouth was on hers and everything felt right with the world. She didn't know how much time passed or how long she had been lip-locked with Yates when hands pulled her away from him. She started to protest, but then she focused on Data's face and realized he was the one holding onto her. She would be just as happy to be kissing him. She tried to do just that, but he held her at arm's length.

"I'm taking you to Dr. Bashir," he informed her, and kept her at bay when she tried to wrap herself around him.

"Consider yourself on report," Data told Yates then he carried Shea away under one arm, with the bag of herbs and the hookah in his other.

"What's this?" Bashir inquired when Data came up behind him and held a bag of what looked like dead seaweed in front of his face. He turned around and focused on the bleary eyed face of Shea, being held upright by Data. "Oh no. What have you done now?"

"She ingested this organic substance, using this device," Data informed him and set the hookah on the doctor's desk. "Ship informed me of her irrational behavior so I went to investigate. I found her in a state of intoxication seducing crewmen Yates."

"We were just kissing," Shea objected.

"What is this stuff?" Bashir asked her, holding up the bag.

"Cardassian herbs… whatever that means," she replied.

"Why would you consume it when you don't even know what it is," Bashir asked in amazement.

"Because when I smelled it, it got rid of my headache, immediately" she said and attempted to snap her fingers without success. She frowned at her hand. "Anyway, that stuff works better than anything you've ever given me. Headache's gone - totally. I thought if just smelling it could do that, what happens when you smoke it?"

"Good question. You'd better let me examine you."

"Oh goody. Julian wants to play doctor." She crawled onto the biobed, stretched out and closed her eyes. "You can even tie me up if you like. I don't mind."

Bashir laughed in surprise. When he saw Data's disapproving look, he stopped and walked over to the biobed to check her readouts. "Extremely high levels of dopamine and serotonin in the nucleus accumbens," he noted.

"Nucleus accumbens… accumbens, that's where you'll find the fun ones, cha cha cha," she sang and waved her hands over her head.

Bashir's smile returned. "That's your pleasure center," he explained.

She put a hand to her crotch, "This is my pleasure center, silly."

Bashir couldn't help but laugh again. "You are so wasted."

"The waste would be not taking advantage of this." She turned her gaze on the two of them. "Come on, guys, help a girl out."

Bashir watched her wriggle on the table suggestively at them, then looked inquiringly at Data again.

Data shook his head. "She is not in her right mind."

"True, but I can't remember her ever being so happy about it." Seeing the look on Data's face, he sighed and began running his diagnostics.

"Don't you like it when I'm happy, Data?" Shea asked petulantly.

Data cocked his head. "Of course. However, I prefer it to be a genuine emotion, not a chemically induced one."

"Isn't all happiness chemically induced?" she countered. "What's the big deal?"

Data turned aside and tapped his communicator. "Data to Captain Picard…" he said, then stepped out of their hearing range.

"Is he trying to get me in trouble?" Shea asked.

"He's trying to keep you out of it," Bashir replied. "You've been making that very difficult lately. You've never been risk adverse, but these last few weeks, you've really outdone yourself."

Shea sighed and closed her eyes in resignation. "You people are a giant pain in the ass."

"What kind of talk is that?"

She opened her eyes to see Picard walking toward her.

"Were you lurking just outside the door?" she asked.

"I was on my way here when Data called. The other day, you suggested being locked up for the duration. Perhaps I should have taken the idea more seriously."

"Like I said… giant- pain-in-the-ass," she repeated emphasizing each syllable. Then she burst into a hysterical laughter.

Picard turned to Bashir. "Should we be concerned?"

"I don't think so. Her vital signs look fine. She's under the influence of a stimulant, perhaps a mild hallucinogen… I'll have to analyze it to be sure what all it contains, but I think the effects will naturally wear off."

She sat up and started to get off the table.

Picard blocked her. "Where do you think you're going?"

"This is boring. Why don't we all go to the holodeck? We could play a game… how about one of your Dixon Hill P.I. mysteries? … you like those."

"You're not going anywhere. Lie down and stay put," he ordered and pressed her back. To his relief, she didn't fight him.

"What is it you like them to call you? Dix? Yeah, that's it…Dix… a little Freudian, don't you think?" She looked up at the ceiling and smiled. "Oh, it's so pretty," she said, seeming to focus on the empty air.

She reached up with her hands and half of her extended arms disappeared from view. When she withdrew them again, her arms reappeared deeply black in color.

"Look what I did," she said in delight.

Picard inhaled in alarm and snapped his fingers at Bashir urgently. Bashir grabbed a hypospray and pressed it against Shea's neck. Instantly, her eyes closed and she lay unconscious.

"She phased," Picard said, in dismay. "I can't believe it's happening again."

"I can't believe you thought it wouldn't," a voice replied.

Picard looked over to see Q standing in the room with them. He wore a black, grey and silver uniform identical to their own.

"Don't start this again," Picard said, almost desperate. "Leave us alone."

"You know we can't. What you don't realize is that you don't want us to."

"What I know is that your power struggle with D nearly cost her, her life."

"A trifle in the larger scheme of things."

"Not to her, or to the rest of us here for that matter."

"No, of course not. Not with your limited understanding… your pitiful self-interest."

"Why can't you take her wishes into consideration?" Picard demanded.

"Because right now her understanding is as limited as yours, which is exactly why I'm needed here." He stroked the front of his jacket. "You know, I rather like these new outfits - very slimming. I'll work alongside Spock. He's an interesting fellow."

"Absolutely not. You are neither needed nor wanted here."

"Poor Captain, you keep deluding yourself into thinking you're in charge. You forget, I'm the omnipotent being. "

"Which is exactly why you should go. We can't function with a Q onboard altering our lives on a whim."

"You needn't worry. I'm here for educational purposes only, operating on the down low… like your black ops. You'll hardly know I'm around."

Picard nodded knowingly. "I see. Which really means you don't want D to know you're here."

"Well, that could be counter-productive."

"But if Shea knows it, D will too."

Q frowned. "Is he back already? Slipping her in and out of here? Didn't waste any time, did he? Well, you don't have to worry. Just as he masks her memory, I can do the same. Not an issue."

"Of course, it's an issue. It's painful and debilitating," Picard countered resentfully. "Why do you insist on destroying her peace of mind?"

"Oh come now, Jean-Luc. She has no peace of mind, period. You should know that better than anyone. She is deeply traumatized by D on a continuing basis for the sole purpose of keeping her from understanding who she is, and what she is capable of. The last thing D wants is for her to wake up. I for one and the Q for many, want her to wake up. If you really cared for her, as you claim, then you would want the same, no matter what the cost to you personally."

Picard regarded him with skepticism. "Experience has taught me to take your proselytizing with a grain of salt. You mislead, misinform, misdirect, leave out vital information and manipulate us shamelessly every time you make an appearance. I have absolutely no reason to accept anything you say at face value. The last time you toyed with us, Shea essentially died and it was only with D's help that she was restored. Any reasonable person would conclude D poses less risk to her than you."

Q shook his head and tsk-tsked at him. "My dear Capitan, why must you insist upon being so deluded? While I can see a superficial logic in your narrow view of things, you've come to a fatally flawed conclusion. If you truly believe the Q are more threat, ask yourself this, why is it then that the Q only make her nervous, whereas D absolutely terrifies her?"

Picard could offer no explanation for that. The only thing he was truly certain of was that he shouldn't trust any of them.

"I want to make it absolutely clear that you are not welcome here. I will not permit you to sneak around my ship and crew, and if it requires alerting D to your presence in order to prevent that, I will make every effort to contact him."

Q regarded Picard with some surprise. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"As the grave."

Q sighed with annoyance. "Oh very well then, have it your way. But I promise you, the day will come when you will beg for my help."

"Perhaps, but today is not that day."

"Jean-Luc, you are a most exasperating creature," Q stated, then snapped his fingers and disappeared.

"That was impressive," Bashir said. "You actually threatened him. And he actually went away."

"For now," Picard replied. "What can you do about restoring her arm to normal?"

Data responded. "We can employ the same technique Geordi used before to download that energy from her into an inert dilithium crystal."

"As I recall, it required her active participation to release it from her cell structure."

Data nodded. "It did, however, if you'll also recall, she was conscious at the time. In this unconscious state, the process may not require her permission."

"Make it so then, and let's hope it works. We all know how even a small amount affected her before. I'd just as soon not experience that again."

"Agreed," Data replied. "I will set up the equipment immediately."

In short order, Data and Scotty brought up the needed equipment from engineering, and attached it to Shea's blackened arms. As her hands and forearms returned to a normal golden flesh tone, the crystal began to glow green.

"Deja vue," Picard commented watching the energy transfer. He felt relieved that the process was working, but unnerved that it had been required. He well remembered the Demon Goddess, as she had been called on that primitive world where she had been fully under the influence of this energy from another dimension. It was not a happy memory for any of them.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27 - Q's Proposition

"Greetings, Mr. Spock," someone said, alerting him to a new presence. He turned from his desk to see a dark-haired man of indeterminate age, a man whom he did not recognize, wearing a Redemption uniform.

Spock stood away from his desk to face his intruder. "I was under the impression that I had been introduced to every crew member and yet I do not recall meeting you. Nor do I recall your asking permission to enter my quarters."

"I never ask permission because I never need it. I'm Q. No doubt you've heard the name."

Spock pursed his lips together and nodded. "I have indeed heard of you. In fact, you are a key component in my decision to join this crew."

"Ah… should I take that as a complement?"

"Merely a statement of fact."

"No need to be shy, Spock. Clearly you find me captivating, "Q replied. "I suppose you're wondering why I've chosen to grace you with my presence."

"I am curious, yes."

"You're working on a project near and dear to my heart. Something with which I can assist you."

Spock raised an eyebrow in interest but decided not to assume anything. Better that he let this powerful being explain himself. "And what project would that be exactly?"

Q rolled his eyes. "Must we play coy? You know exactly what project. I'm referring to your analysis of Shea's time and space displacements, of course."

"Of course. And how do you intend to assist me in this?"

"I just love Vulcans. They're so directly indirect. My intent is to offer guidance, answer questions, provide shortcuts, and thereby turn years of study into days, hours, minutes even. I don't like wasting time and I doubt someone suffering from your condition does either."

"A tempting offer," Spock admitted. "However, I am suspicious of your motivation. You claim omnipotence, therefore you must already know all the questions I would pose and have the knowledge which I seek. If speed is your concern, why not simply provide the answers and be done?"

Q groaned aloud. "If only it could be that simple. You have no idea how often I have tried to do just that. The answer inevitably results in dumbfounded looks of complete incomprehension and disbelief. No, if there is one thing I've learned in interacting with humanoids, you must come to your answers through a long painstaking process of self-exploration, trial and error experimentation, and just plain dumb luck. It's a very sad and tedious trait of your species, and a continual test of my patience. One of the many aggravating facts about you that I've had to learn to deal with in being the Q's representative humanoid interface."

"It is apparent that although you have been selected to represent your species, diplomacy is not your strong suit."

Q scowled at him. "Was that an insult?"

"Merely an observation."

"Well, you're probably right. I can be a bit judgmental I've been told. It comes with the territory… being omniscient and all."

"I'm sure it's quite challenging."

"You have no idea. The way I have to dull myself down in order to communicate on your level… aggravating to say the least." He plopped into one of a pair of burgundy colored chairs and propped his feet up on the table between them. "Ah well, enough of my problems. Let's get to work. Tell me where you are in your research and what you want to know."

Spock sat in the other chair. "Before I do so, I should inquire as to whether Captain Picard approves of your assisting me in this manner."

Q sighed audibly. "The answer is no, he does not approve. So I suggest you not mention our little arrangement."

"You are asking me to deceive my Captain. However, even assuming you could convince me of the necessity, Ship would inform him."

"Only if we were on board, which we are not. We're neither here nor there, neither now nor then. You won't be missed because you're not really gone, but neither will you be watched."

"Ship," Spock called out. "Are you observing us?"

No answer came.

Q spread his hands and smiled. "Convinced? You may communicate with me freely without fear of reprisal."

"Reprisal is not what concerns me. My goal is to prevent a conflict between you and the other entity known as D, which I am told could conceivably threaten the stability of this universe."

"That it could. You've picked a worthy goal. One that the Q share. Inevitably things must change, one way or the other, but the Q would prefer a peaceful transition."

"And what does D want?"

"To maintain the status quo. That is why he restored Shea to her body."

"Why is she pivotal in this dispute of yours?"

"She is either linked to or actually is an energy being, one of the old ones we believe, probably a predecessor of D, absorbed into his awareness along with the others who preceded him. For some reason, he's separated this single entity out, attached it to a corporeal form, and has been controlling it thus ever since. This current humanoid manifestation is just one in a very long line. He keeps playing with the DNA combinations. This time, we believe he has made her a little too well, a little too smart for her own good. She's catching on. The Q see it as a chance to wake her to her source identity. And when she wakes, the Q will align with her and D will be outmatched."

"If she poses a risk to him in this form, why would he keep her alive?"

Q smiled. "Because in experiencing life through the evolutionary processes on Earth, D has allowed himself to become all too human. We think he's fallen in love with his own creation." Q chuckled at the thought.

"Fascinating," Spock stated, raising his eyebrow."That would comport with Data's hypothesis that D takes her from this reality for purposes of personal gratification. Have you observed his interaction with her during these displacement events?"

"No, he forms a time-space bubble, much like the one you're experiencing now. We can't see into his bubble nor can he see into ours. We have our theories, of course, but we can't be entirely certain what transpires. We believe he uses these encounters to keep her off-balance, unable to think straight."

"I see." Spock pyramided his fingers thoughtfully. "And your plan is to help me find a way to stop these events from occurring?"

"Exactly. If she could be protected long enough, she might finally wake up to who she is and defend herself."

"Why don't you simply protect her?"

"If the Q interfere directly, you'll get that war you're trying to avoid. It could well be one the Q could lose. We're not willing to take that chance."

"And you can't wake her, teach her this ability yourself?"

"We tried. That's what exposing her to that alternate reality was all about, allowing her to turn into the Demon Goddess. Our interference only resulted in her destroying herself and taking refuge in Picard. He's the only one she really trusts. He's the key."

"So you need me because Captain Picard will not listen to you."

"Sadly true. I've tried to befriend him, really I have, but for some reason, he refuses to appreciate me," Q sighed then looked at Spock. "Do you think you could appreciate me?"

"I do find you highly intriguing. Whether you prove trustworthy is a completely different question."

"There's that word again. Trust. Jean-Luc throws it around constantly. Such a ridiculous concept."

"I find your response puzzling. Why do you judge trust to be ridiculous?"

"By definition it denotes one's operating on blind faith, with a lack of reason, and an expectation of safety. Any cognizant being knows that the universe is inherently unsafe, unreasonable and must always be closely scrutinized. I am every bit as trustworthy as you or any other element of this universe, which, of course, means not at all. So why pretend otherwise?"

"Fascinating," Spock pronounced once again. "So by your own admission, I should not trust you."

"No, but you should use me. I have the knowledge you seek. And you have the influence I seek. Working together would be to our mutual benefit."

Spock mulled over the proposition, weighing the pros and cons. In the end, the probable benefits appeared to outweigh the potential consequences.

"I'm inclined to agree with your logic," Spock said. "I accept your offer."

"Wise choice," Q congratulated him. "You won't regret it. Now, when I close this bubble, you'll return to your own reality with no loss of time. I suggest you check the monitors and compare this event against the others. I'll leave it to you decide whether to share your findings with anyone else at this point."

"Very well," Spock nodded.

"Excellent. I think I'm going to enjoy working with you, Mr. Spock. I'll be in touch."

Q vanished from the room, leaving Spock staring at an empty chair.

"How did you do that?" Ship asked.

"Do what?" Spock inquired in return.

"You were sitting at your desk just now. How did you get to that chair? I didn't observe you move from one point to the other."

Spock kept his expression carefully neutral. "You must have blinked or dozed off."

"I don't blink and I never doze. Furthermore there was no passage of time which have allowed you to make that transition. Something odd happened just now. What have you been up to? Share."

"I've been studying Shea's time - spatial displacements, as you already know."

"Studying it is one thing, doing it is another. How did you do that?"

"I did nothing unusual. I simply walked from my desk to this chair. Perhaps your interior sensor arrays need adjusting," Spock said, feeling a sting of guilt at misdirecting Ship. A necessity under the circumstances, he decided.

"Are you sure? I feel fine," Ship replied.

"Run a self-diagnostic. If you fail to identify the problem, I'll look into it in the morning."

"Okay. I'll run diagnostics and get back to you."

Spock pondered why Q would have made such an obvious error thus alerting Ship that something unusual had transpired. It must have been intentional, he concluded. Perhaps to drive home the reality of these displacements. Spock estimated that he had experienced a passage of time of approximately twenty minutes, whereas Ship observed an instantaneous dislocation of himself from one point to another. Spock's memory of the event was fully intact, and corroborated by Ship's observation of his spatial displacement without seeming any passage of time. If like Shea, his memory had been erased and he had been physically returned to the same point in space and time, there would be no way for him to know that the event had ever occurred. Except by looking at the monitoring stations set up in Data's quarters, as Q had recommended.

Spock exited immediately and headed for Data's room. Upon reaching it, he buzzed for a response. When none came, he let himself in. Data had given him full access so that he could work on their joint project at his convenience. The monitoring stations corroborated the occurrence of a recent time-spatial displacement event. He overlaid the readings from the most recent event with the past ones, looking for anything different. Everything matched with the past ones, except for two energy outputs. He eliminated the matching readings leaving a graph of four jagged lines, appearing in closely related but not matching pairs.

"Fascinating," he said aloud, and hit his com badge. "Spock here, Mr. Data. If at all possible, please meet me in your quarters. I have something I would like to show you."

"Acknowledged," Data replied.

Spock continued running the numbers and spectral analyses while he waited, nodding with satisfaction as patterns emerged confirming his theory. Within a few minutes, Data arrived and stood next to him peering at the screens.

"I'm not certain what I am looking at," Data stated.

"You are looking at two frequencies recorded from a recent time-spatial displacement in comparison with previously recorded ones. "

"They do not match."

Spock nodded, "Exactly. Which provides us with something for comparison. These are the only readings which differ." He pointed to the two lower lines, then the two upper ones. "This appears to be another humanoid energy signature. I must assume these larger, more chaotic ones, are Q versus D."

Data studied the readouts. "If so, it would indicate that Q must have taken someone else from this crew, much as D does Shea."

"So it would appear," Spock confirmed. When he saw Data eyeing him suspiciously, he put a finger to his lips and shook his head.

"You are concerned that Ship will report this conversation to Captain Picard who may not approve."

"I am certain he would not."

Data turned aside. "Ship, when it comes to this research, the Captain has given me carte blanche, no questions asked."

"That's true," Ship confirmed.

"And you also know that this is a topic we do not discuss with Shea."

"Also true," Ship agreed.

"Therefore, any discussion between Spock and myself on this subject must not leave this room. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Data. I understand. As long as it remains in her best interest and presents no immediate danger to this crew, I will not repeat anything you say."

"Thank you, Ship." Data turned back to addressing Spock. "If you are correct, we can now identify these entities by their energy output. We should adjust our search parameters to pinpoint them. This will allow us to know whenever they appear in our vicinity."

"Precisely," Spock agreed, then pointed to another screen, with a highlighted jagged line. "In these historical surveys, this same energy reading appears frequently, not as intensely as during an actual displacement, but far more often. If this is D, he seems to be monitoring her closely - perhaps continually . Q asserts that D uses these events to keep her from understanding who she is, and what she is capable of."

"Perhaps this explains, why on some days, she experiences frequent displacements and none on others. He may be responding to evidence of her experiencing an increasing level of awareness. I am most curious to learn if there have been displacements since this morning when she phased."

Spock paused in astonishment. "Why didn't you inform me?"

"I am informing you. Dr. Bashir gave her a sedative, and I reversed the effects while she was unconscious. She has not wakened yet."

Spock accessed Sickbay's records, noted the time of the injection, and compared it to their readouts. "An incident occurred immediately following the injection."

Data frowned and nodded. "That would support Q's assertion. These displacements appear to be reactive as well as pro-active."

"Here," Spock pointed again and adjusted the display. "Each time, D's energy signature grows stronger shortly before the displacement."

"An observable precursor," Data noted. "How much in advance?"

"At least two seconds. In this one, nearly five."

"Enough time to warn her then."

"Yes," Spock agreed. "The question is, should we?"

Data frowned in silence, having no conclusion to share at this point.

"Spock," Ship intervened. "I assume I can dispense with the self-diagnostic. It appears that my observation of your displacement without a time lapse was accurate."

Spock nodded. "My apologies for attempting to deceive you."

"Apology accepted. Don't do it again. If I think I can't trust you, I promise you will not be able to trust me."

"Understood," Spock acknowledged, his one eyebrow raising at the threat, and he realized he must never think of Ship as anything but a living being, one with a distinctly opinionated personality.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28 - Too Serious To Be Taken Seriously

Picard sat in a chair reading late into the night, keeping an eye on Shea as she slept in their quarters. The painkiller syringe Dr. Bashir had given him sat at the ready on the table next to him. He'd chosen to move her here so she would wake in the comfort of her own bed, rather than under medical scrutiny in Sickbay. He didn't know how much she would remember of this morning's events, but hoped it would be as little as possible, part of the reason he'd had her moved here. When she shifted and rolled toward him, he glanced up from his book. She looked so peaceful and vulnerable that he wanted to hold her, but he didn't want to wake her prematurely, so he simply stared at her lying there in repose. Perhaps she felt the weight of him watching her, for it was but a moment before her eyes flickered open and looked back at him. When she smiled sleepily, he smiled back. Then she grimaced, put a hand over her face, and curled up reflexively.

"Headache?" he asked, already knowing the answer. "It's especially bad, isn't it?"

"Mmmmm… I'll be okay. I just need a minute."

He knew she was downplaying it. He stood, picked up the syringe and pressed it against her neck, releasing the contents.

"Ow," she complained.

He sat back in his chair, with his book on his lap.

In a moment her features relaxed, and her hand dropped away. She opened her eyes again and looked at him. "Why are you way over there?" she asked.

"I have no idea." He tossed the book aside, crawled over next to her and slipped his arms around her. He kept his mind relatively blank, enjoying the closeness, and refrained from pummeling her with questions as to how she was feeling and what she remembered. They lay together comfortably, neither of them disturbing the quiet.

"Thank you," she said at last.

"For what?"

"All of it."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm just getting started."

"Glad to hear it," she said, then sat up. "Didn't you suggest visiting your sister-in-law?"

"I did. I even talked to her about it today and she's eager to see us. When you're feeling up to it, of course."

"I'm up to it now."

"Relax. There's no rush."

"If you're having second thoughts, you needn't worry. I promise not to embarrass you. I'll wear appropriate attire, keep my mouth shut, and conduct myself in a socially acceptable manner."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Then she'll be sorely disappointed. She's expecting to meet you. Just be yourself."

She looked at him doubtfully. "You sure she's up for that?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay, so when do we go then?"

"At a decent hour. It's three in the morning there now. We should wait till mid-day, I think."

"That'll be nice, seeing your family estate in daylight, not to mention spending more time with you in that lovely bedroom. That had to be one of the shortest honeymoons on record."

"Short, yes, but highly productive. Speaking of which, how are my children faring?"

"Safe and sound and soundly sleeping. You worry way too much."

"I have to compensate for the fact that you don't worry at all."

"Not true. I just don't make a habit of it." She hopped from the bed and looked in their closet. "So what should I bring? Is your sister-in-law planning activities for us? What's she like anyway? Has she ever been off-planet? Am I going to make her nervous? Are you sure she's okay with this?"

He laughed at the jumble of questions. "Now who's worrying too much?"

"I just want to make a good impression. Be nice. Help me pack."

"I have a suggestion - let Marie take you shopping. I'm sure she would love helping you discover haute couture. After all, it's what Paris is known for."

"You really think she'd want to?"

"I'm certain of it," he replied.

"I suppose local fashion would provide a fairly safe topic for interaction." She shut the closet firmly. "Except, of course, for the fact that I loathe clothing."

"Pity, since it looks so good on you. Like that wedding gown, for instance." He blew air and smiled at the memory, picturing her that night.

"Most men get excited when the clothing comes off. I've noticed whenever I put on a disguise, your eyes light up. I think I married someone with a fabric fetish."

He simply laughed. "Why don't you just give Marie a chance? Maybe she can help you find something you'll actually enjoy wearing."

"Doubtful," she said, snapping neckline of her dark grey uniform as if it were choking her. "I can't believe you let me sleep in this thing." She shimmied out of it and kicked it across the floor. She saw him shaking his head. "Sorry. I know you prefer subtlety. A little mystery to solve, right, Dix? Such a funny name. Why ever did you pick that character for your holodeck adventures, anyway?"

"As you said, I enjoy a mystery - the more complicated and challenging, the better. I suppose that's partly why I find you so attractive. You're complicated and challenging…. and deeply mysterious."

She scowled at him. "I'm not sure I find that reassuring. It makes me think that if and when you solve the puzzle, you'll close my book and move on to the next one, just like you do with your Dixon Hill mysteries."

"You have an unfortunate tendency to jump to negative conclusions at the slightest provocation."

"It's a lot more than slight."

He sighed and frowned at her. "What can I say to reassure you?"

"You don't need to _say_ anything. I feel the love you hold for me, but in the background I'm also hearing doubts. Right now, you're thinking that perhaps you've made a serious error in judgment, and that, ultimately, pursuing a relationship with me will prove to be a fool's errand."

Her giving voice to the fears plaguing him took his breath away, and he found he could no longer meet her gaze. He wanted to deny what she had said, but knew it was pointless. Clearly, he could deceive himself better than he could deceive her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't want to feel those things."

"It's okay to share your fears, you know." She lay down beside him again and put her arms around him. "I get scared too sometimes."

He hugged her back and held on. "Then I suppose we'll just have to do the best we can."

"Yes," she agreed but then stared at him again. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there?"

As her eyes searched his face for clues, he blanked his mind.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked.

"About ten hours," he replied knowing there was no point in hiding that bit of information.

"So I slept the entire day away. Which means, somebody gave me a tranquilizer. Data would only allow that if I posed an immediate danger to this ship and crew."

"There's no danger now," he said. "You can relax."

"The last thing I remember is telling you I was going for a walk. So what happened?"

"Clearly your memory has been erased for a reason. Best to leave it alone."

"I didn't phase, did I?"

"Shea, please..."

"Do you really think keeping me in the dark is the best way to handle things?"

"Actually, I think it's a terrible way to handle things. Unfortunately, I don't see a good alternative. All you need to know is that you slept and now you're fine. Let it go."

"If you think I'm that much of a risk to everyone, maybe it's time you sent me away."

"No, I made that mistake before. You're where you need to be. And so am I. Of that much I'm certain."

She rolled away from him, distancing herself. "I feel like a bomb you're trying to defuse."

"You're not the bomb. You're simply attached to one."

"Oh. Well. Now that you put it like that, I feel so much better. Thank you."

He could hear the bitterness in her voice and feel a roiling mix of fear and defensiveness emanating from her.

"I hate this," she said.

"Understandable. If I were in your position, I would hate it too. Try to be patient. Let us do our job."

"I'm not used to taking a back seat."

"No, and in most situations I wouldn't even suggest it. But in this case, you are clearly outmatched and you know it, which is exactly the reason you've surrounded yourself with the brightest most capable people you could find. You're just going to have to sit back and trust that you've chosen well." He met her apprehensive gaze, and added. "You're not alone."

"Okay, okay," she said at last. "I trust you."

With those three words, he felt the crushing weight of responsibility descend upon him to protect her, his unborn children, his ship and crew, and, perhaps, even the universe as they knew it. What was it Captain Kirk had said to him so long ago? - _I take it the odds are against us and the situation is grim_? -

Yes, those were his words now fitting this moment so perfectly. He couldn't recall any prior confrontation he'd experienced where the odds had been higher or the consequences, both personally and universally, appeared more grim. His gut tightened and the taste in his mouth grew bitter as he wondered if he were up to the job. His bleak self-questioning was suddenly interrupted by the sound of Shea snorting with laughter next to him.

"What the devil?" he asked, blinking in surprise at her.

"He actually said that? What a drama queen… _odds are against us, situation is grim_… that's hilarious. You gotta love him."

Picard frowned at her. "It was neither humorous then, nor now."

"No?" She flipped herself over and straddled him. "And what did the great Captain Kirk say after that?"

He didn't want to answer, but felt compelled by her. "He said, '…sounds like fun.'"

"Exactly. So maybe the real question you should be asking yourself is whether or not you're having fun."

"Fun?" he spit out the word as if it were an insult. She merely nodded and waited. He calmed down a bit. "You want to know if I'm having fun?" he asked again more seriously, giving the question weight. The consequences of failing in this endeavor were so monumental, the concept of having a good time in the midst of it all seemed immoral, wicked even…and completely human. He felt his lips curl upward.

"I suppose I am," he confessed. "How could I not? I'm with you."

"Good answer," she smiled in reply. "Such a serious man with such a serious life. You've earned every bit of fun you can get and I'm going to make sure you get exactly what you deserve."

Her warm honeyed kisses started on his lips and leisurely wandered their way down. He lay back with a contented sigh, letting her work her magic on him, and allowed himself to enjoy every moment. She was right - it didn't get more fun than this.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29 - Jealousies and Temptations

It had been three days since Captain Picard and Shea had transported down to Earth to visit his sister-in-law and engage in what would be commonly referred to as a honeymoon. Data supposed they were enjoying themselves, although Shea was probably experiencing some physical discomfort by now due to her separation from him and the others. It occurred to Data that a human male in his position might be feeling resentful. After all, he loved her too, yet the idea of marriage to her had never factored into his thinking, and Picard's decision had taken him by surprise. He and the Captain had shared numerous conversations recognizing that neither of them should ever entertain the concept of exclusivity when it came to her, a concept that seemed to be a fundamental element of a traditional Earth marital contract. Certainly, Captain Picard was not suffering under the illusion that a legal agreement would change behavior dictated by her biological make-up. Perhaps the Captain was holding out the hope that Dr. Bashir would finally discover an effective treatment that would result in her being content with one man in her life. Data hoped not. He preferred to think that, like him, Captain Picard had truly accepted her as she was. And he did not like to consider the possibility that in a contest where only one male would be chosen by her, he might be left out.

And now she was pregnant. He tried to picture the twins growing inside her, and envisioned their appearance as they grew into adults. His positronic brain quickly formulated thousands of images combining the physical characteristics of Captain Picard and Shea - too many possibilities to truly contemplate even without allowing for spontaneous genetic mutations - not that physical appearance mattered to him. He was convinced that they would be both brilliant of mind and beautiful in spirit, no matter which genes came to dominate. Shea had told him she hoped he would be part of their experience, an uncle of sorts. He found the idea appealing. He could never father children biologically, but he could parent them. It was a future he enjoyed contemplating, but he also recognized that it was in serious jeopardy.

As he allowed himself to ruminate on these personal thoughts, he continued running his background programs, monitoring Ship's operations, drafting crew reviews, and reviewing the latest information regarding Shea's time-spatial displacements. The latter took a significant portion of his computing ability, which he dedicated to the subject full time. Nearly full time. He occasionally shut all of his processing down to enter a sleep program designed for dreaming. Humans claimed that problem solving often improved after sleep. He too hoped for insight, a dreamed image or experience that might assist him in understanding what the Q and D hoped to accomplish by harassing her, and how to put an end to it. He recalled many dream images related to his concerns - most of them involved her being harmed by D, or phasing back into the form of the dark and dangerous 'Demon Goddess' - or worse, into some monstrosity far more terrifying. The dream images reflected and revealed his fears, but offered no solution that he could see. Still, he felt more hopeful than ever.

Spock's interaction with Q had resulted in a great deal of new information. Data knew better than to take Q at his word, but some of what Q had told Spock had been corroborated with their own equipment, resulting in three particularly significant discoveries. They could now reliably anticipate a displacement by several seconds. They knew D took her to a time-space bubble, the presence of which could be detected and measured, if not penetrated. And they understood, in theory at least, how such a bubble could be created, given an adequate power supply and interphasic capability. Ship had the latter ability. The sticking point was power.

Even Ship's massive warp core engines were insufficient. Understanding the amount of pure energy required to create such a rift in time and space brought home to him just how powerful these entities were. Did they carry this energy within them or did they simply have the knowledge of where and how to tap into it? Whichever the answer, the result was a seeming ease of altering the universe at will. D created these bubbles displacing time and space readily and frequently. Q stated that he could not see what happened to Shea while she was trapped with D within them, but insisted it was both traumatic and debilitating. Based on their own observations, he did not doubt the truth of that assertion.

Dr. Bashir's medical records following these displacements evidenced cellular damage in Shea's cerebral cortex, and complete annihilation of that mysterious organ in her core, the discovery of which had resulted in Geordi calling her a walking portal to other dimensions. When that organ had been fully functional and active, she had opened herself to unseen alternate realities. Apparently, this was a skill that D did not want her to have at all, let alone master, in contrast to the Q, who seemed to want it very much. Data wondered why this organ existed in her if D found it objectionable, when D himself had been the mastermind behind her genetic structure. D kept destroying it, and it kept regenerating, over and over, despite his efforts. Data suspected that the organ held the answer to the source of power used by D and the Q. If so, it explained why D kept removing it. The question which bothered Data the most was whether or not D was wise to do so.

When the Q had kept her safe from D long enough for her to begin using that latent ability, she had transformed into an immensely powerful and pitiless version of herself. People had died. When returned to her normal state, she had felt sad and guilty about what she had done, but that remorse was no guarantee that she would behave differently if she transformed again. The Q insisted the risks were worth it. Once freed from D's influence, she could join with the Q and together they would be stronger than D. However, D claimed that he was simply intent on maintaining the balance of power in the universe, thus protecting all the worlds and life forms which existed within it. The Q instead claimed his motives were purely selfish, opposing the natural order of evolution for their species, which would by right result in the end of his independent existence.

Data felt torn between the desire to liberate Shea from her oppression, and fear of the consequences. Everyone who cared about her, felt similarly conflicted. They worked toward finding a way to thwart D and the Q, and yet they had not come to grips with what might result if they did. When given the opportunity to make a choice, Captain Picard had denied both claims on her, and to enforce that decision Data had disintegrated her body beyond any ability to regenerate. He had saved her essence in her clone setting her back far enough in development that neither side felt threatened and both sides had lost interest in her - at least temporarily. Ship's crew had bought a reprieve of nearly a year. But now the reprieve had ended and both parties had returned to stake their claim. Data felt determined to stop them from doing so, but questioned the cost should he succeed. Shea might then evolve independently into whatever she was intended to become. He loved her, but he did not know if he could trust her. Past experience would indicate not. He had taken her life once already. He did not want to have to do it again.

#

Picard noticed Shea's fidgeting, her restlessness. She couldn't hide it any longer. When she couldn't sit still at the dinner table that night, Marie had asked if she was all right. In answer, he had excused the two of them and taken her by the arm upstairs to the privacy of their master suite.

"Do you need to leave?" Picard asked.

"No," she said defensively then immediately gave in. "I mean, yes, damn it, yes. I hope I didn't embarrass you. Just tell Marie I'm not feeling well. I'll make sure I'm back by morning. She doesn't have to know I left."

"It doesn't matter whether she knows or not. Go take care of yourself and return when you're ready."

"All right. I'm sorry. I'll come back as soon as I can," she said and kissed him good-bye. A moment later, Ship's transport beam kicked in.

He watched her disappear from view, then sighed and looked about, feeling the bitter irony of spending the night here alone while his bride spent it with other men. No, this was no common marriage. He'd been harboring the hope that her being pregnant might change things a bit. Apparently not. Good thing he wasn't the jealous type, he told himself. Except that he was. He was possessive as hell. And this drove him nuts. He promptly scolded his primitive instincts and ordered himself to get a grip on reality. He'd known exactly what he was getting into, every step of the way.

"A bit hard to live with, isn't it? All the philosophizing in the world doesn't quite compensate for one's gut reaction," a male voice said.

Picard looked over to see Q lounging on their bed. "Please go away."

"Don't be like that. We used to be friends, remember? I'm very sympathetic to your plight. I only want to help."

"No, you only want to manipulate me to further your own ambitions. If you were sympathetic, you would help her, instead of trying to use her. You could re-sequence her DNA with a snap of your finger, but you do nothing."

"True," Q admitted, "but then what? D would simply reverse it. He likes her the way she is… obviously. All I would accomplish would be to increase his annoyance and push us closer to open conflict. I'm sure you don't want that."

Picard frowned in response, unwilling to give Q any positive feedback, even though his assumption was true. "Clearly you are not offering any help, so leave."

"But I am offering help. Just not in a way you'd expect. I can't assist her directly, but I can assist you. If you'd just try to keep an open mind for a change."

Picard wavered a moment between his well-grounded suspicions, and the hope that maybe Q finally would offer something of value. "Very well. I'm listening."

Q smiled and sat up. "Excellent. As I explained, it would accomplish nothing for me to alter her physical attributes as D would simply reverse my efforts. However, I could alter yours."

"Mine? I have no complaints. Thanks to Shea, I couldn't be healthier or more fit."

"Except for the fact, that you are unable to keep her satisfied, or even reasonably comfortable. I could fix that. A little tweak here, a little modification there, and voila, the perfect mate. She wouldn't need anyone but you."

Picard felt his interest peaked, temptation pulling at him. He should tell Q to get the hell out of here and turn away. Instead, he asked, "How would you accomplish this?"

"Shea's problem is that she needs variety. She quickly builds up immunity to an unvaried source. The more time she spends with you, the less satisfying she finds your input, so to speak. But a little time away with other sources, refreshes her cycle so she can return and appreciate what you give her again."

"I don't need you to explain this to me."

"The point is, although I can't change her, I could change you so that you could provide that variety all by yourself. She wouldn't build up an immunity to you anymore. It would be a bit like the way you fought the Borg by continually altering the frequencies of your weapons."

"How would this affect me overall? Any side-effects? Changes in appearance or behavior?"

"Only that you'll be able to keep up with her appetites so she won't be needing any other men. You might even regain your self-respect."

"I have never lost my self-respect. Far from it. If anything, I feel I've profited from this experience by overcoming my selfish instincts. Love does not equate with ownership."

"Very noble," Q said. "So you won't mind then as she adds more stallions to her stable. She's been eying that young new recruit… Mr. Yates, isn't it? And of course there's always Riker. I don't think she's ever going to lose interest there."

"Stop baiting me."

"Simply pointing out the obvious. Her needs are growing, not lessening, dominating her behavior more and more. If you let me alter you, she wouldn't need to run off like she does. She hates being controlled by this need even more than you hate what she does to satisfy it. With this change, you could both be content in each other's arms."

"You make this sound simple, without any ramifications. Forgive me, if I find it hard to believe that a modification of my internal structure would come with no strings attached."

"Oh Jean-Luc, you're always looking that gift horse in the mouth, aren't you? Determined to find fault. Why don't you simply give it a try? Take your new DNA on a test drive, if you will. If you don't like the results, simply say so and I'll reverse it. All you need ask yourself is what do you have to lose?"

Picard debated with himself. His need to alleviate this source of discontent for both of them was a core issue. It both bonded them in mutual need and drove a wedge between them built on his resentment and her guilt. He tried very hard not to let it color his thinking, but it was a continual struggle. If allowing Q to discretely alter his DNA could be the solution, he supposed he needed to give the idea a chance. Take that test drive, as Q put it. He nodded, coming to a decision.

"Very well. As you said, what have I got to lose?"

"That's what I thought you'd say," Q replied and waved a hand toward him. Picard felt a warmth wash over him, a tingling beneath his skin, a prickling sensation throughout his core, oddly disturbing, but not painful. When it faded again, he took a deep breath and tried to sense if he felt different. Nothing he could identify.

"Let me know how it goes," Q said and vanished from view, but then he abruptly reappeared. "Nearly forgot. Completely different topic. Do ask Marie about that new man she's been seeing. Au revoir!" And he vanished again.

Picard scowled at the empty air. What the devil did Q mean by that? Why should he be interested in who Marie might be seeing? Then abruptly he remembered the wedding and who had chosen to sit next to her, smiling at her so charmingly. _Holy hell._ He immediately exited the room and headed back downstairs to the dinner table where he had left his sister-in-law. The table had been cleared and she was not in sight. "Marie?"

"Out here, on the porch," she called to him. "Such a beautiful night," she said as he walked outside. "I didn't think you'd be showing your face again this evening. You two are so obviously in love - the way you stare at her, watch over her, worry about her. It's sweet to see. I'm happy for you."

It seemed like an obvious opening to her own love life, so he went with it. "Thank you. You deserve happiness as well. I've been wondering if you're looking for someone special to share your life."

"Perhaps. For a long time, I couldn't even think of it. After Robert and Andre were killed in that fire, I just curled up inside myself. But lately, I've been thinking maybe I could be with someone again. There's a man, a very intriguing man I've been seeing recently… he's smart, witty, sophisticated… very worldly, and yet down-to-earth. Not the least pretentious. He could have most any woman, but for some odd reason, he's taken an interest in me."

"That's hardly surprising. You have much to offer. What do you know about him?"

"Not very much, I admit. He's rather mysterious, which I confess is part of the attraction. I was rather hoping you might be able to tell me more about him. You must know him fairly well, seeing as he walked your bride down the aisle. Monsieur Derek Jacobs… ainsi charmant," she sighed wistfully.

"Oh dear." Picard sucked in air, having his fear confirmed. He looked down unhappily, wondering how much should he tell her? He didn't want to frighten her unnecessarily, but he needed to dissuade her from this dangerous attraction.

"The last time I saw that look on your face, was when you tried to explain to me the horror of being assimilated," Marie said.

"I'm sorry to tell you that Derek is a very dangerous and duplicitous individual, Marie. Charming, yes, like a snake. I can't be more emphatic in warning you to place no trust in him whatsoever, especially with your affections."

Her facial expression registered shock. "I see," she said. Then a moment later, "No, that's a lie. I don't see at all. Why would you say something like that? What has he done?"

He reached over and put his hand over hers. "In this matter, I believe the less you know, the better off you will be. Please simply take my word that he is not someone with whom you should associate, by any stretch of charity or the imagination. Do not be fooled by his charms. He is definitely not who he appears to be."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30 - Data's Experiment

Any resentment Data had been feeling at being a non-party to the decision-making process when it came to Shea's wedding and subsequent impregnation, was pretty much dealt with after a long session of lovemaking and conversation. As he lay next to her, holding her, he felt better - no longer the odd man out, as the human phrase went. He enjoyed adding slang to his verbal repertoire. He knew it made him seem more human to others if he didn't take people quite so literally.

"Will you be visiting anyone else on board before you return to your honeymoon?" he asked her.

"I don't think so. With all those tubes you have now, I don't need to. Makes life a little simpler. Thanks for doing that."

"You should thank Dr. Bashir. He was the one who made it possible, but I do not think he would be happy to learn that he has been rendered superfluous. Nor would Chorack, or Mr. Scott. You have created a sense of expectation in them."

"I know," she sighed in response. "I promise I won't neglect them."

"Good. Before you leave, I would like to open a discussion with you on a difficult subject. I refer to the time-spatial displacements you experience but cannot recall." He felt her muscles go rigid, but he persisted none-the-less, holding her a bit tighter. "These experiences are clearly harming you. I have not found a way to prevent them, but I can predict and document them. I can warn you when one is about to occur and, afterwards, inform you that you have experienced one. I intend to do both."

"That's a marked change in policy," she observed.

"Yes. Consider it an experiment."

She buried her face against him. "My head hurts," she complained.

"I believe that is because you have just experienced a displacement. A sudden headache seems to be the immediate result of the experience. I do not doubt that your pain will increase as this experiment progresses. I am truly sorry."

"Wow." She put a hand over her face and rolled away. "Maybe I do need to see Julian."

"I will accompany you." He tapped his com link. "Data to Sickbay. I am bringing Shea in."

He helped her on with her uniform and dressed himself, then walked with her to Sickbay, where he knew Julian was now waiting for them. He saw the look of her surprise on her face to see Spock was there as well, and Julian wasn't holding a hypospray.

"No painkiller?" she asked.

"Not just yet," Julian said. "I don't want to mask your symptoms."

She looked at the three of them. "Why do I feel like I'm being ganged up on?"

"We're trying to help you," Julian said. "Please, lie down." He pointed to a biobed.

Data saw that she was ready to run. "Don't," Data warned and positioned himself to grab her if needed. "I must insist that you cooperate."

"I see you've chosen a time when Captain Picard is absent," she noted, then spoke upward. "Ship, are you observing this?"

"Yes, Sweet Shea, I am watching. I believe they are acting in your best interest."

"They'd better be." She frowned at them suspiciously.

"We'll be monitoring your vital signs very closely. We won't push you any farther than you can handle," Julian said.

"That's usually a lot farther than I enjoy."

"It is true that you may experience some discomfort. Nevertheless, you will cooperate," Data said, wearing his resolute expression. "Please lie down. I do not wish to force you."

He waited a moment to see what she would choose. To his relief, she laid herself down voluntarily. He stood next to her and placed a hand firmly on her abdomen, then looked at Spock expectantly.

Spock stared at the PADD in his hands, then nodded."You may begin."

Data addressed Shea. "It is our understanding that D takes you into a time-space bubble, which he creates for the purpose of…"

"You are about to experience a displacement," Spock interrupted.

Shea gasped when her headache surged suddenly. "What… what did you say?"

"You have just now experienced a displacement," Spock reported. "During what appeared to be no change in location or loss of time, your brain experienced the equivalent of four hours of input."

"Your memory of the event has been erased, as evidenced by cellular damage to your cerebral cortex where short term memory is stored," Bashir told her.

She scowled at them, both believing them and not at the same time.

"Prepare yourself," Spock interrupted. "You are about to experience another displacement."

"We believe D does this to you intentionally in order to disable you," Data said.

She cried out when the pain in her head reached monumental proportions. She grabbed his wrist. "Data, please."

In response, Data pressed her more firmly onto the biobed and spoke rapidly. "Clearly, the more aware you become of these displacements, the more frequently D causes them to occur to suppress your awareness - we have good reason to believe that he is afraid of you."

"Once again, prepare yourself," Spock told her.

Shea started screaming.

"That's enough!" Ship said.

Data nodded in agreement and Julian administered a sedative that rendered her blissfully unconscious.

"Most illuminating," Spock concluded. "I consider our hypothesis confirmed."

He looked up from Shea's now inert form to see that tears streaked the faces of both Data and Bashir. He raised an eyebrow in silent judgment.

Ship reported that Captain Picard was hailing them.

"What the hell is going on up there?" he demanded.

"We ran an experiment," Data informed him, "testing a theory. Shea cooperated but found it unpleasant. Dr. Bashir has sedated her."

"I know I gave you carte blanche on this matter, but that doesn't mean you can torture her."

"No, sir."

"No more unauthorized experiments."

"Yes, sir."

"She's asleep I take it?"

"Yes, sir. I don't know if she will retain any memory of what occurred."

"Transport her back down here now."

"Acknowledged."

"Transporting," Ship announced and Shea dematerialized from the biobed in front of them.

"You're beginning to annoy me," a deep smooth voice informed them and they turned to see D in the room with them.

"Mr. Derek Jacobs," Spock stated in recognition.

"Ah, Spock. You remember me. I'm flattered, considering we only met once in passing. I must have made quite an impression."

"The impression was in Shea's mind, a deeply disturbing one. Now I understand the cause."

"Actually, you understand nothing, and yet you're willing to tamper. Cease and desist. You have been warned." He waved a finger in front of the three of them. "Don't make me return again."

And then he was gone. Spock raised his eyebrow once more. "Fascinating."

Then suddenly, Spock found himself in a grey mist, standing on something that appeared insubstantial, yet supported his weight. Another of Q's bubbles.

"Nicely done," Q said, standing there before him. "You really got his attention that time."

"Yes, but is that wise?" Spock inquired. "D is threatening us now. And if Shea only experiences more brain damage as a result of our efforts, how does this improve the situation?"

"You let me worry about D's threats. And as for her brain damage, I don't believe the input is truly lost, merely inaccessible at the moment. Keep it up. Something is bound to give eventually."

"You wish to bring this interaction between Shea and D to a breaking point then," Spock concluded.

"Absolutely. Don't you?"

Spock frowned uncertainly. "That would depend upon the outcome. A subject on which you have offered little illumination."

"You're asking me to predict the future… always a murky endeavor. I can show you a multitude of possibilities, some more likely than others, but as always the result depends on the choices and actions of the individuals involved made in the moment as events unfold. Even I am stumped by the mathematical infinity of the possible."

"You are a not helping to make this an easy choice," Spock stated.

"Choices aren't supposed to be easy… that's life. I didn't make the rules, any more than you. We are all subject to the uncertainty of cause and effect in the long run, but I see far further than you. Think of me as a guide in the midst of your myopia."

Spock nodded in acceptance of that. "I do believe that you have greater insight and knowledge of this universe, and would appreciate your guidance. I find it difficult to assess, however, whether you are being fully honest with me, or whether you are manipulating me for your own benefit, which may or may not equate with ours."

"Well, there you go. That's exactly why I can't predict with any certainty the outcome of our mutual efforts here. You may choose to believe my input or you may reject it entirely, or more likely end up somewhere in between, picking and choosing. All those choices will be yours, along with those of many others. I suppose you'll just have to do the best you can, as your Captain would say."

"A simplistic observation, and not particularly helpful," Spock noted, then found himself back in Sickbay along with Bashir and Data staring at the empty space where D had stood. Of course, neither of them had noticed his absence, since in their time perception, there had been none.

"As I said, this experiment has proved our hypothesis," Spock stated again.

"There is no need to repeat yourself," Data replied. "However, I am not sure the cost to her is worth the proof."

"Only time will tell us that. We must continue as planned to know the ultimate result."

"And what about D?" Bashir asked. "He's warned us to stop. God knows what he'll do to us if we cross him again."

"I believe we should continue," Spock reemphasized. "I am willing to risk D's disfavor in doing so."

"As am I," Data concurred.

Bashir shook his head. "I sure hope we don't end up burning in some hell D cooks up for us. You know how these entities like to play with our worst fears."

"Then I suggest you get your fear under control," Spock admonished him.

"Easy for you two, with those pointy ears and an on/off switch. I don't have the luxury of living emotion free. I imagine all kinds of horrible things that scare me. And D is about as scary as it gets."

"If you are asking to be excluded from our efforts-" Data began.

"No, no. I'm not," Bashir said quickly. "Damn it. I'm in. Just expect me to be nervous and curse a lot."

"I find that acceptable," Data replied.

"Agreed," Spock confirmed.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31 - Scare Tactics

Shea lay on the bed in the master suite of his family estate, while Picard sat nearby waiting for her to wake from the sedative Bashir had administered - for the second time in just a few days. As he watched her, he worried about how these crises were increasing in frequency and severity, heating up, compressing in upon them in a way he'd never seen before in her long history. He felt a deep fear that the future they had planned together would be cut off in its infancy. He had hoped for time with her, but it seemed to be running out. He fought the dread back down, trying instead to stay in the moment. It wouldn't do for her to wake and find him distraught. He was her strength, her confidence, her determination to go on, and fight against these entities that would take her from him and everything she knew. He forced himself to let the worries go and concentrate on his belief in their combined strength. He kept his mind focused on the positives and was glad of it when she woke and smiled in response.

"Good morning," he said, then he glanced at the clock on the wall to double check. Yes, still morning - barely.

"Guess I slept in," she said, which told him she remembered little or nothing of the previous night's events.

"Doesn't matter. We're off the clock."

"Good," she said and crawled toward him to give him a kiss. "Mmmm…. you taste good."

"You always say that."

"No, I mean extra good," she said and kissed him long and deep. "Wow. What are you doing different?"

"I don't know…"

"Maybe it's all that wonderful French cuisine Marie's been feeding you." She began to undress him. "Let's see what else has improved."

He made no objection as she kneeled before him. He lay back and let her feel what he was feeling. Their combined sensations grew and peaked, then slowly receded. When he went to sit up, she pushed him back down.

"That was amazing. Let's try something else now," she said.

"Hold on-" he began, but she was already on top of him and to his surprise, he responded immediately. The resulting experience was every bit as intense as the first, which led to another, and then another. Hours later, he was growing desperate to end this interaction, but there appeared to be no bottom to her hunger for him, nor to his ability to rise to the occasion trying to satisfy the both of them. She was pulling him down on top of her again. Despite his own matching desire, he threw himself off the bed and stood away.

"This is ridiculous," he said.

Though still in a thoroughly aroused state, she was confused too. "I… I'm sorry. I don't what it is, but I can't seem to get enough of you. What's going on?"

"This is my fault. I've done something foolish, or rather I allowed Q to do something foolish to me," he took a steadying breath and looked away from her nakedness, then called out. "Q! I've changed my mind. Reverse this, now!"

"Are you sure?" Q asked, appearing in the room. "You looked like you were having so much fun."

"It's too much," Picard replied. "More than I need, want or can handle. Staying this way would be all-consuming, completely unbalanced. I have a ship to run, a life to live beyond the bedroom."

"Well, good for you." Q waved his hand and Picard felt that same odd tingling sensation throughout his core and when it faded so did his sexual arousal. Instead, he felt thoroughly drained and had to sit down.

"Well, I hope this has taught you a valuable lesson," Q said.

"Yes, it has. It's reinforced my belief that I should never listen to your advice."

"Oh that's it, blame the other guy. Typical human defensive, closed-minded, knee-jerk reaction, when it was you yourself who made the choice. I asked you what you had to lose, and you couldn't think of a thing. Now you can. You had a glimpse of what it's like to be genetically programmed like she is. Maybe now, you can finally accept your relationship as it is, without all your festering resentments and petty jealousies."

"You expect me to believe that you did this for my benefit?"

Q rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I don't know why I bother with you at all. I keep thinking I see a glimmer of intelligence there, but then you say something like that and simply burst my bubble. If you had any insight whatsoever-"

"Q," Shea interrupted his harangue, "If you don't mind, Jean-Luc and I need to talk… in private."

"He's all yours," Q replied bitterly, and promptly vanished.

Shea turned to Picard. "Come here and kiss me."

"Shea, for pity's sake, I'm wrung out, done, fini.

"Maybe you are, but I'm not. He changed you, not me. I'm still keyed up, so come kiss me so I can talk to you."

"How is that going to-"

She cursed and tackled him, putting her mouth on his. Slowly she seemed to relax and calm down. She pulled away. "You still taste good, just not crazy good. So tell me, what the hell were you thinking?"

"A stupid idea. Q suggested I might be able to help you deal with this worsening addiction of yours, and I listened."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I know I can be a burden."

"I didn't mean it as a criticism. If that was a taste of what you experience, I'm amazed you manage to function at all."

"These days through a combination of self-denial and little sleep. It didn't used to be nearly this bad. I'm still hoping Bashir will figure out a way to get a handle on it."

"I hope so too, but until then, I'm more than content with the way things are. I'm also exhausted." He crawled onto the bed, groaned and dropped face first. "Sorry," he mumbled and promptly fell asleep.

Shea almost laughed seeing him splayed out like that, a position he normally avoided. He tended to sleep on his side or back, never on his stomach. She gently covered him with a blanket then decided to shower and dress. Maybe he'd wake by then. But when she returned, he was still out. It was long past the dinner hour, and Marie was undoubtedly wondering about them. She decided to head downstairs and make excuses for their prolonged absence. She saw the dining table had been set for two with Marie's handwritten note alongside saying they could find a casserole warm in the oven_. How very thoughtful. _

Not that she was hungry for something long since dead and cooked to oblivion. She joined in human meals mostly out of politeness and social expectations, sampling, but consuming little. Neither did she enjoy eating live food like the Klingons with their wriggling wormy gagh, more like gag in her opinion. No, her body fed on other things - mostly expended energy absorbed through her skin radiating from light sources, animals, plants, and people. She had sought out a living vessel for that very reason… a huge portable energy source. Living inside Ship was every bit as satisfying as standing in the rays of a yellow star. But it was a star-like energy source she could take with her. Better yet, Ship loved her, protected her, followed her every command. They were bound together by mutual need, trust, and admiration. Obtaining Ship's loyalty had been a major coup.

It surprised her how much she had come to depend upon Ship's presence surrounding her. She knew she could reach out in her thoughts and have Ship transport her back instantly, which she found comforting. She was almost tempted to do just that, but hadn't she just been on Ship? It felt as if pieces of her memory were missing, and as soon as she suspected it, she was convinced of it. Her mind had been tampered with again. She scowled trying to put her jigsawed memory back together. Yes, she had gone back up to Ship. She'd been with Data. And he'd told her something, something important. Something about D.

Almost immediately, she felt pressure in her head and a sharp pain above her eyes. Then she spotted a bottle of wine on the table. Maybe a glass would help. The opener lay next to it, and she quickly employed it to extract the cork, then poured a full glass of the deep red vintage for herself. Half a glass later, she was beginning to relax again and the pain retreated. There was something she'd been thinking about just before the headache began, something important. As she tried to remember, her gaze landed on Marie's note. Oh, yes, she was going to apologize to Marie for their absence. That must have been it. She took another swallow, set down the glass, and went in search of their host.

Roaming the house, she came up empty on finding Marie, so she headed outside to explore the grounds. The stars were visible in the dark night, but enough ambient light remained for her to find her way easily along the soft dirt paths leading to the grape orchards and outlying structures. Approaching a gazebo in the distance, her senses detected the presence of people there, and as she got closer she could hear two voices… a man and a woman by their tones, though still too distant to be identifiable. The voices went quiet before she could be sure if the female was Marie. Probably, she thought, so she continued on, until she got close enough to see the couple standing together in an embrace.

_Looks like Marie has a special friend._

She didn't want to intrude, so she hung back and made herself unobtrusive. Maybe she should leave entirely, simply return to the house and wait. Then she saw them separate and head in her direction. Uh oh. She didn't want Marie to think she was spying on her, so she slipped between the rows of grapes… now she was spying, she realized. She should leave, but curiosity got the better of her, so she hunkered down, and blended into the foliage. She blanked her mind, in case Marie's companion was telepathically sensitive, and projected nothing but a humming static, blending into the background noise of her environment. The two passed by, conversing, laughing about something. Marie's face was lit with delight. The man looked straight ahead as they passed revealing his profile and Shea's heart froze in mid-beat. He didn't look in her direction and the two kept walking toward the house.

Had she actually succeeded in hiding from him? It seemed unlikely, and yet he made no move that seemed to indicate otherwise. She kept herself hidden, thinking hard as she kept up her mental barrier. Why was D hanging around Marie? She crouched low and watched as they neared the house, fearing he would go inside, but to her relief, he kissed Marie good-bye and transported away. Though he appeared to have left, she took no chances and did not let down her mental defenses. She scurried out from the vines and wove her way back to the house to enter by way of the library as Jean-Luc had shown her. She grabbed a book and sat in one of the chairs, trying to look casual, as if she'd been there all along. She didn't have to wait but a minute before Marie passed by the open doors, saw her there and entered the room.

"Bon soir," Marie said. "It's good to see you taking advantage of our library. It's a bit neglected these days. Are you a bibliophile, like Jean-Luc?"

"I enjoy reading… when I find the time," Shea replied and set the book aside, with the title out of view so Marie wouldn't comment on it. She had no idea what the book was about. "Out for a stroll?"

"Yes, I wanted some fresh air before the evening chill set in."

"Was someone with you? I thought I heard a man's voice."

Marie smiled in reply. "I had a visitor, yes. I would have invited him in, but…" she fell off, as if embarrassed to explain.

"In case you're wondering, I'm perfectly trustworthy with other people's beaus these days," Shea said, hoping that might encourage her to name the person she was seeing.

"Oh, no, I never thought that you… I mean that wasn't the reason. He needed to get back. Some urgent business he had to attend."

"Oh. That's too bad. Is he someone special to you then?"

"I'm not sure yet. I must confess I'm rather taken with him, but it's still early."

Shea nodded, realizing Marie was not going to be forthcoming. She tried a different tack. "Didn't you say that you have some recordings from my old music concerts?"

"Yes, they're part of the collection here. I caught Andre watching one once. Of course, I shut it off then locked them up after that."

"Of course," Shea said with a smile. "Some of it wasn't exactly family fare. So you didn't purchase them then?"

"No. I guess Robert did, secretly. He was a bit of a collector - and a voyeur," she added ruefully.

"Aren't we all, if we're honest? You've never watched them?" Shea asked, and Marie shook her head. "So where are they? I'm rather curious."

Marie looked uncomfortable, but answered. "They're in that cabinet." She gestured to a tall pair of wooden doors, then retrieved a key from a drawer next to it. She unlocked the cabinet, and opened it. "I think they're organized by date," she said as she pulled out a small box. Opening the lid revealed several dozen discs with typed labels. "I suppose these are pirated tapings."

"They'd have to be. We never filmed our shows." Shea took the box and fanned through them looking for the specific date she had in mind, found it and pulled it out. "Would you like to watch one with me?"

"Oh. Well, I'm not sure. Perhaps, if you think it appropriate."

"On the contrary. I think it's totally inappropriate, but if you'd like to know who Jean-Luc chose to wed, you'll find it informative. You might be a bit shocked, but I promise you won't be bored. Shall we?" Shea wiggled the disc enticingly.

"I'm not sure I need to know everything," Marie said. "And I wouldn't want to offend Jean-Luc."

"He's asleep and beyond offending. Come on, show some backbone. It's just a recording. No one's going to grab you and pull you in." Shea adopted that tone that egged people on. "If you want to impress that new man of yours, you'd better learn to be a little less inhibited."

Marie snatched the disc. "I am not inhibited. I'm simply cautious."

She marched over to the wall and slid the disc into a slot. A large screen revealed itself, covering the bookshelves, and the disc began to play. A three dimensional scene showed a crowd of thousands circling an empty stage in the round, stomping and yelling and clapping, impatient for something to begin. Marie sat in the chair next to hers and faced the screen.

"Is this on Earth?" she asked.

"Budapest," Shea replied with a nod, then leaned back and tried to harden herself for what she knew would unfold, assuming her memory of that night remained accurate. After the show, she had left in a panic, grabbed her son on the way, and gone into hiding. That was back when she had believed hiding was actually possible. When Marie glanced over at her, Shea smiled reassuringly.

A steady drumming began, laying in the backbeat for the music to come, and the stage filled with lights streaming in every direction - holographics, pyrotechnics, lasers, smoke and mirrors - they did have good special effects, she recalled, so good that it had been difficult to detect the edge where imagination and reality bled together. Shea tried to concentrate on the technical aspects, and screen out the personal meaning.

The live video recording was a bit amateurish and shaky, obviously handheld, but the sound and clarity were good even when the focus changed from a wide-spectrum to a close-up of the stage as D's six pale-faced Tommy's took their places along with their instruments of preference, one by one adding to the mix, overlaying each sound upon the other, until their hypnotic music had filled the stadium then, and the room in which she and Marie sat now. Then she saw herself appear on the screen, welcoming the crowd, getting them up and moving to the music as she added her voice in song, stirring them to a frenzy. One number led to the next and the next, and the crowd moved together in waves of energy and emotion, almost as one body, jumping and pumping the air, singing along. Everyone seemed to be having such a good time.

The music grew harder, sexier, more raw, the lyrics more suggestive, bordering on explicit. Her dancing on stage became an illustration of both the music and the message. And she wasn't alone. The Tommy's moved with her, equally sensual and graphic. Shea lowered her gaze uncomfortably, and allowed herself to glance sideways at Marie who appeared both mesmerized and astounded.

_It shouldn't be long now_, Shea thought. She really didn't want to see this at all, but her eyes went back to the screen despite it.

She saw herself dancing as if possessed, strung out on the high energy of the crowd, intoxicated by the music and the fervor of the emotions surrounding her. Just then a man appeared from the back of the stage, strode toward her, spun her about and pushed her up against an invisible wall, held her there, and ravished her in full view. It seemed as if he had her complete cooperation, and the crowd reacted with evident enthusiasm, belying the shock she remembered feeling in the moment.

_Come on_, she thought, _give us a close-up. _

She mentally cursed the operator of the handheld recorder, as it nearly dropped to the ground, and the sound came of someone whooping loudly. But then the image re-centered on the conjoined couple, and zoomed in on their faces.

"Mon Dieu!" Marie exclaimed.

"Oh I'm sorry. Do you find this offensive? You can shut it off, if you like," Shea offered amiably. "It pretty much just goes on the same anyway. More people on stage, more music, more sex… kind of repetitive really, but the crowd liked it. Derek really knew how to put on a show. He choreographed everything."

"So you and Derek were lovers?"

"He was more my manager, really, but as you can see, he liked to get in on the act. Unfortunately, his preferences became problematical for me, as you'll soon see."

The music, sex and violence progressed, and it looked as if Shea were bleeding… profusely.

"That's not special effects? That's real?" Marie asked, obviously horrified by what she was seeing.

"Mostly special effects," Shea lied, trying to soften the blow, "but it became rather unpleasant, all the same. I ended up having to fire him. His artistic view was too… peculiar for my taste. Shall we shut it off, now?"

"Yes, yes," Marie hit the controls and the disturbing images vanished. "Why have you remained friends then, if you had such differences?"

"Friends?"

"You let him walk you down the aisle at your wedding. I assumed he was a close personal friend."

"More of a relative, I'm told."

"It seems you two have a very complicated relationship."

"You could say that."

Marie frowned at her. "He doesn't appear to have aged a day. How old is he?"

"I have no idea. But I'm guessing he's a lot older than he looks," she said, then changed the conversation. "Can't say I'm particularly proud of my antics back then, but it's part of my history, so I thought it might interest you. I should go check on Jean-Luc now, see if I can rouse him. I'm sure he would love some of that casserole you fixed."

Shea promptly departed, leaving Marie to contemplate what she had just witnessed. If that didn't curb her interest in Derek, probably nothing would.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32 - Dangerous Liaisons and One Determined Android

Picard was thankful that the subject of Derek never came up again during the remainder of their visit. However, he noticed that his sister-in-law seemed subdued after his conversation with her, still polite, but distant. Probably sad and a little resentful at having her romantic notions dashed so summarily, he concluded. He felt the irony of having offered her warnings similar to those he had received when he had pursued Shea. Not the same thing, he told himself. Not even close.

When they said their goodbyes and thanked Marie for her hospitality, he gave her a consoling hug. When he let go, she looked from him to Shea and back again.

"I hope you realize, you haven't dissuaded me. I'll make my own judgment based upon my own experience," she said.

Picard frowned, realizing his words had fallen on unreceptive ears. "Marie, I am very concerned about your welfare. You have no concept of what you're dealing with."

"Maybe I do, and maybe I don't. Either way, it's my choice."

Picard sighed in frustration, and it occurred to him that if D had made himself as irresistible to women as he had made Shea to men, there was probably nothing he could say to influence her.

#

As the two conversed, Shea pretended not to know what they were talking about, since neither had admitted to her that Derek had caught Marie's interest, but she reassessed her opinion about Marie, seeing her in a new light. She was not the shrinking violet she had supposed, not even the bloodletting was frightening her. And no doubt, D had explained it away to Marie's satisfaction. He could be very smooth. Shea hadn't let down her mental barrier for a moment, not since she had seen D strolling in the garden. It occurred to her that she hadn't had a headache recently either. Something about that was important… something Data had told her. She reinforced her mental defenses as she tried to pull the pieces together. She needed to talk to Data.

"Time to go," she said abruptly. "We need to get back." And before Picard had a chance to utter another word, Ship was transporting them.

"Why the sudden urgency?" he asked when they rematerialized on the transporter deck.

"I missed everyone," she said, disingenuously. "Ship, is Data on the bridge?"

"Affirmative," Ship replied. "Welcome home."

"Thanks," she said and started walking. Picard was close on her heels. She could feel his suspicion that she was up to something, and determination not to let her out of his sight. She was still wearing the fashionable attire Marie had helped choose when they went shopping together, and she was finding its interference with her energy absorption annoying. Now that she was back on Ship, she found no reason to put up with it any longer. She pulled the blouse and skirt off as she went. She was about to drop the clothing into a recycle shoot, when Picard grabbed them.

"I'm rather partial to this outfit," he told her.

She smiled in response, seeing him holding the green and blue print fabric. She slipped off the coordinating shoes, and handed them over. "Then you'll want these too. I'm sure you'll look divine."

"Very funny." He eyed her now in her French laced underwear. "Would you like a uniform?"

"No thank you," she replied, and started walking again. She pulled the bra off, too, then reached for the lace panties.

"Don't you dare!" he ordered.

She dropped her hand. "Fine," she said, and it was. She had enough exposed skin now to breathe easy. Ship's warmth caressed her all over and she felt herself filled with renewed energy. Her mental shields formed another layer of defense, and she walked faster. Picard had to half run to keep up. When she passed by the door to their quarters without stopping, she felt his alarm.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"To the bridge," she replied.

"Not like that, you're not."

"Don't be difficult," she warned and kept going. She wouldn't think of hurting him, but she wasn't about to let him stop her either. It was unfortunate that she couldn't share her reasoning with him, in part because it was even unclear to herself, but mainly because his thoughts could be easily accessed. The only mind on Ship that read like a blank slate was Data's. She was certain he was the one she needed to see. Apparently, Jean-Luc sensed her resolve as he made no effort to put himself in her way. His annoyance was giving way to curiosity. He dropped the clothing outside their door and ran to catch up to her.

"I trust you have some explanation for this erratic behavior."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said and the doors to the bridge opened before her. No one said a word, but their stares followed her as she entered and walked up to Data. "You were saying something about my headaches…" she prompted, concentrating hard on her mental barrier.

"Affirmative," Data said and grabbed the PADD that Spock extended to his outreached hand. He spun it so she could see the display. "They are post-traumatic symptoms from time-spatial displacements as shown here, during which you suffer significant brain damage resulting in loss of short term memory. We can predict their occurrence several seconds in advance by the upswing in this energy reading. You can see it building as we speak. Prepare yourself."

She had just enough time to blank her mind, before a lightning stab in her forehead took her breath away. She rebalanced herself and met Data's gaze again. "I take it you have a plan?" He nodded in response and she spoke for his hearing alone. "Don't tell me or anyone else, just do it. Whatever it takes. Do it now." She looked at the small screen to see the energy reading climbing. She emptied her mind again, but it was more difficult this time. She blinked in confusion as the pain became stronger than her ability to concentrate. All she could seem to recall was that Data might be able to help. She struggled to remember… the displacements, yes, that was it. Data was watching the PADD in his hand and frowning.

"If… if you know a way to…" she started to say, but renewed pain overwhelmed her thought processes. She looked at him blankly now, feeling slow and stupid. She had no idea what she'd been about to say, or even why she was on the bridge, let alone almost naked. Everyone was staring at her, looking as if they expected something from her. "I'm sorry, I… you'll have to excuse me," she said and turned away. Grim faced now, Jean-Luc put an arm under hers and guided her to the exit.

Data watched them depart then turned to his stunned bridge crew. "Stations, everyone." He returned the PADD to Mr. Spock, who simply raised an eyebrow in question. "We have our orders," Data said to him quietly, then addressed Ship."Lay in a course to Earth's nearest shipbuilding station."

"Laying a course," Ship replied.

"Are we in need of repairs?" Sakonna inquired.

"An augmentation," Data stated and hit the comm. "Mr. Scott, please be advised that Ship will be creating an expansion in Engineering."

"Expansion? What kind of expansion. I wasn't told about any…"

"Retreat to the aft section and remain there until further notice." Data cut him off without explanation. "Ship, disengage Earth interaction protocols. Confirmation code, Alpha Tango Ten Four Seven Zero Zero, Data."

"Acknowledged. Protocols disengaged."

"Access program two three seven zero four zulu, Data."

"Accessing."

"Engage." Data sat back, letting Ship take over.

"Activating full cloak," Ship reported.

The crew glanced at each other, trying to see if any of them knew what was going on. The monitor showed their travel to a lower orbit around Earth, and a huge shipyard came into view as Ship continued to report.

"Scan in progress. Two hundred and fifty-three lifesigns registered and targeted for transport to Earth. Engaging transport. Transport complete. Engineering expansion in progress. Targeting warp core one. Engaging transport. Transport complete. Targeting warp core two. Engaging transport. Transport complete. Targeting warp core three…"

The crew listened in shock as it became clear that they were stealing the warp core drives from ships under repair in the yard. Six warp cores later, Ship fell silent. One of the vessels under repair at the station apparently became unstable and exploded rather spectacularly, damaging the hangar in which it sat.

"We are being hailed by Earth," Ship informed him.

"Monitor their communications, but neither acknowledge nor reply."

"Security forces are transporting aboard the station and they have recalled all Federations starships in the area."

"Estimated time of arrival?"

"The first should arrive in twenty-two minutes at maximum warp."

"Excellent. Use that time to interconnect the new warp cores."

"On it," Ship replied. "May I ask Scotty and Bleton to assist me?"

"Of course."

Scotty's voice came over the comm. "What am I supposed to do with six extra warp cores?"

"Simply follow Ship's instructions, Mr. Scott," Data told him.

"And here I was just getting used to being a law abiding citizen again," he replied.

"It would appear that our pardons are destined to be rescinded," Sakonna commented.

"Concentrate on your duties and do not allow yourself to be distracted," Data told them all. He stared hard at his bridge crew until they each turned back to their stations.

Twenty minutes later, Ship announced, "A Merced class starship, the USS _Trieste,_ has entered orbit with shields up. They are scanning the area."

"Wait for the others," Data ordered.

More ships arrived, one by one until a total of seven, all fully shielded, were searching for them, hailing them. Ship remained cloaked and silent. The Enterprise was the last to appear as it had been the most distant when summoned. Data listened to Captain Riker urging them to respond and explain their actions.

"Now, Ship," Data said.

The lights dimmed, and the engines ramped to full power. They felt themselves lurch forward as Ship simultaneously phased while accelerating and extending her tentacles. The sudden momentum pushed them back into their seats and threw those who were standing to the floor. Data knew Captain Picard would now be alerted that something unusual was occurring and would soon be rushing onto the Bridge, but it would be too late to stop what had been initiated.

In one swift move, Ship phased through each of the starships' defensive shields, scraping along their outer edges, invisible and untouchable, grabbing each of their warp cores, whole and intact, to add to the expanded Engineering area. The sweep took less than a minute and when Ship was done, not one of the Starfleet vessels had warp capability, not even the Enterprise, as verified by Captain Riker's incensed harangue.

Picard stormed onto the bridge, and listened to Riker fuming over the communication channel. He turned to Data, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Carte blanche," Data reminded him. "Ship?"

"All warp cores are now interconnected."

"Initiate final sequence," Data ordered.

A blinding light filled the monitor screen, and the floor seemed to buckle under their feet. For a moment reality twisted, flipped upside down and inside out. Then everything stabilized again. The stars and Earth were gone from view and replaced with… nothing.

"Where are we?" Picard asked.

"Within a time-spatial bubble, identical to those created by D when he abducts Shea," Data explained. "I was only ninety-nine point four percent certain that the attempt would prove successful and had hoped to narrow the margin of error with further study. I apologize for taking such a risk, but Shea told me to activate my plan without further delay." He then called Engineering. "Mr. Scott, what is your status?"

"We're lit up like Christmas down here. Never seen the like of it before… fourteen warp cores on one little ship. It's a wonder you didn't blow us all to Kingdom come and back again."

"Does that mean we've suffered no damage to Engineering and everything is fully functional?"

"Aye," Scotty said, sounding reluctant to admit it. "No damage."

Data smiled, his face taking on an expression of pure satisfaction. "Success."

Picard stared at the blankness on the monitor. "Data, I am unclear as to just how you define success."

"By the fact that neither D nor the Q can see us, hear us, or know anything about our activities. As long as we remain within this bubble in time and space that Ship has created for our use, we are safe from their interference. And so is she."

"We're beyond their reach? Are you absolutely certain?" Picard asked incredulously.

"Absolutely," Data confirmed. "We can remain here for as long as we deem necessary, or until we run out of supplies. We have enough to sustain us for up to two years. I hope you are as pleased by our situation as I am."

A smile stretched over Picard's face as the impact of what Data was telling him hit home. "I certainly am. Well done, Number One, well done."

Data nodded subtly, as if he'd accomplished nothing more remarkable than offering a cup of tea.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33 - Safe Haven

As Data had expected, no power was required to maintain the existence of the distortion surrounding them. Popping this bubble would require effort, but until then, it remained of its own accord and they floated freely within, separate from and invisible to the known universe. Here they had time… all the time they needed to answer the questions perplexing them without outside interference. And time for Shea to heal.

Picard now understood in full exactly what had been occurring to her. Data had shared his research with everyone on board. Finally they could all be on the same page with no more sneaking about, keeping secrets from each other for fear that D and the Q would steal the information from their minds. They had tried to bring Shea up to speed as well, but her damaged brain couldn't grasp the concepts as yet. Dr. Bashir likened the most recent cellular destruction in her prefrontal cortex as equivalent to an old-fashioned lobotomy. D had left almost nothing of her intellect intact. Picard found himself leading her about as if she were a simple-minded child. Her blank stares and empty smiles saddened him and made him long for the acerbic wit and sarcasm that used to annoy him so.

On the tenth day according to Ship's clock, he took her to the recreation room and sat her in front of her custom designed piano. She looked at the instrument in delight and ran her hands over the surface.

"It's so smooth," she said.

He sighed, realizing she had no idea what it was for. "This is your piano," he told her and sat on the bench beside her. "You are an excellent musician and play this beautifully. Ship created it to your specifications."

"That's nice," she replied, but clearly had no comprehension.

He activated the electronics, and the keyboard revealed itself. He wasn't much of a keyboardist himself, but he could pick out a few simple tunes he remembered from childhood lessons. He chose one he knew by heart. He single fingered 'Frere Jacques' for her, one note at a time. Her face lit up.

"Now you try it," he said.

She tried to mimic him, stumbling over the notes, getting them wrong. He guided her hand to hit the correct ones in the correct order, making her laugh. After several repetitions, she managed to follow the pattern he set. He could see her concentrating hard to accomplish this simple task. He hummed along to help her, and she joined in.

"Music and memory are closely linked, yet kept in different areas of the brain," Julian said, from behind them.

Picard looked up and nodded. "Yes, I know. That's why I thought this might prove beneficial."

"This is so fun," she said, and Julian smiled back.

"Keep practicing," Picard told her. She returned to her simple song, humming happily, and he stood away to talk to Julian in low tones. "What's going on? Why isn't she getting better? She's come back from the dead quicker."

"I know. I'm beginning to think D did something fundamental to her basic physiology this time around."

"Are you suggesting that she may never recover?"

"I'm suggesting that I don't know yet. I'm still running diagnostics to see if there have been any changes made to her DNA." Julian sighed watching her struggle at the piano. "At least she's happy and free of those terrible headaches."

"That's not good enough. We came here so she could fully understand herself and this challenge we're all facing. She can't do that in her current condition."

"Don't you think I know that? I'm doing everything I can. I don't like seeing her this way any more than you do. She's so clueless. Sometimes I feel… guilty."

"Maybe if you were a little less inventive," Picard told him.

"Everything I do with her is for the sake of science and medicine," Julian countered.

Picard frowned in response, not buying it. "And here I thought Chorack would be the problem. Fortunately, my fears about him proved unfounded. Now that he has the upper hand with her, he's turned into a lamb. It's ironic that the one I have to keep an eye on is her doctor."

"I resent that."

"Resent it all you like. Just remember that although she may be clueless, I am not. So conduct yourself accordingly, or you may lose your privileges entirely."

"Look, I know you're frustrated and worried. But let me remind you that as her personal physician I'm the one she chose to solve her biological puzzle. Some of my techniques may seem unusual and it might even look as though I'm having a good time, but they are specifically designed to shed light on the problem."

The two men glared at each other, neither of them willing to back down or admit they might be wrong.

"I think maybe you're having a little too good a time, Doctor."

"Come on. You're not really questioning my ethics or my loyalty, are you?" Julian asked.

Picard took a deep breath. "No. I'm not. However, if you're truly honest with yourself, I think you might recognize that you can get a bit carried away at times."

Julian looked aside, then back again and finally nodded. "Maybe… a bit."

"At least, lose the restraints, will you?"

"I have a hard time keeping her still long enough for an exam."

"Then call Data."

"Fine."

Picard let go of his annoyance, trusting that Bashir would tone it down. He then noticed the presence of Spock at a table nearby, watching them. When their eyes met, Spock looked away. He wondered just how much of his conversation with Julian, Spock had processed. Picard recognized it was about time they talked.

Shea was now playing all the keys, pressing them one by one in order from left to right, and right to left, over and over. "Would you keep an eye on her for me," he asked Julian.

Then he walked over to Spock's table. "We haven't spoken all that much since you joined our crew, Mr. Spock. Nor have I personally thanked you for the part you played in finding this safe-haven."

"Simply doing my job," Spock replied.

"So you were. May I join you?"

Spock nodded and Picard took a seat.

"I'd like you to tell me about your experience with Q."

"I believe you received my full report," Spock replied.

"Yes, very informative. But what I'd like to know is your personal impression. Do you believe what he says?"

"I believe that he believes what he says."

"So you don't think he is intentionally misleading us?"

"I do not."

"My understanding is that he wants to kill her, absorb her life-force into the Continuum, and use it against D."

"A crude description, but basically accurate."

"Do you have any idea as to how we might prevent him from doing that?"

"I have no such insight. With a great deal of effort on our part, we managed to duplicate one single event. These creatures perform such tasks repeatedly with seemingly little effort. Even with all the power Ship now commands we cannot rival them."

"So then one must wonder why you bothered?"

"For the sole purpose of determining if Shea has that capability."

Picard frowned and looked back at her plunking determinedly at the keys, one finger at a time. It hardly looked promising.

"When we faced this same conundrum a year ago, and they allowed me to act as arbitrator, I was of the opinion that neither the Q nor D should have power over the other. Although I don't see either side as morally superior, they do seem to balance one another to some point."

"I understand that was your thinking," Spock replied. "And that it was for that reason, you chose to deny Q's claim and maintain the status quo as D had requested."

"Yes. I have thought long and hard about that decision I made then and I'm still not sure if it was the correct one. I suspect they've both misrepresented themselves to us, but I have no way to sort it out. It always seems to come down to them pointing fingers at each other and making outrageous claims no one can verify."

"If a logical solution were available to solve this puzzle I would gladly offer it. Unfortunately, I believe this is one of those rare occasions when an individual must go with his gut reaction."

Picard smiled in response. "Not exactly the advice I expected from you."

"We have only two methods of responding to a situation, by either relying on logical analysis or emotion-based instinct. When it comes to dealing with these beings, logic fails. Therefore, the only logical approach is to rely on one's instinct."

"And what do your instincts tell you, Spock?"

"Like you, I trust neither party, but if I had to choose one over the other, I would choose Q."

"And what about her? If Shea came to have these same powers, would you trust her?" Picard asked.

"No. However, I would choose her over either Q or D."

"Why? You rejected her, sent her away. You obviously disapprove of her lifestyle and the choices she's made."

"All true, but I do know that she has always struggled with a conscience and that you have apparently been successful in reinforcing that and guiding her to believe in a higher level of ethical principles. That is not something I know to be true of either Q or D. If my assessment is correct, she would be their moral superior."

Picard nodded at that. "Thank you, Mr. Spock. On that point, we agree. I just hope she has the chance to prove it."


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34 - Parenthood

The days passed, turning into weeks, and then months with little change.

Shea remained happy and simple, as her belly grew and her due date approached. The crew were now long past the sympathetic stage, and were deep into boredom and grumbling about their continued captivity all seemingly for no purpose, since Shea obviously wasn't improving. The gym, lounges and holodecks were in continual usage as everyone looked for some avenue for diversion.

Sakonna was especially vocal in her displeasure. "I signed up for this crew to get out of prison. How is this any better?"

Picard heard the complaints, and witnessed his crew's growing restlessness. He offered the occasional speech about patience, but as he felt his own deteriorating, he knew his words sounded less and less convincing. He had no desire to return to normal space while Shea remained in such a vulnerable state, but they'd seen no indication that her condition was improving and he couldn't keep them here forever. Eventually, they would run out of supplies, assuming his crew didn't mutiny first. He decided to wait at least until she gave birth, which shouldn't be much longer.

When Dr. Bashir summoned him to Sickbay with the news that she had gone into labor, he felt both a thrill of anticipation at seeing the birth, and dread that he would soon have no more excuses to delay their return. For the moment, he tried to concentrate on the fact that he was about to become a father. He held Shea's hand as she concentrated on following Dr. Bashir's instructions to breathe through each of the powerful contractions. When he finally told her to push, she did and cried out as the first of the twins entered the world and cried out as well.

"Congratulations, you have a beautiful healthy son," Julian announced, and Picard laughed.

His daughter would have a big brother. Then the girl arrived, equally healthy, red-faced and screaming in protest. As he looked upon his two small children, Picard felt an overwhelming rush of love and protectiveness so profound that he thought his heart couldn't hold it all. Apparently it couldn't, as his love for them spilled over in tears. He felt his own strong emotions reflected and added to in Shea, who smiled tearfully, as well. She might not understand all that had happened, but she still understood love, and the need to care for their newborn children. Julian wrapped them up and positioned them against her, so that they could nurse when they were ready. Then he nodded to Picard and left them alone.

"Congratulations," Shea said, echoing the now absent doctor. "They're so beautiful."

"Yes, they are," he agreed fully. "Just like their mother. Are you feeling all right?"

She nodded happily. "Yes, I'm tired, but fine. They're fine too. I can feel them, you know. He's sleepy, but she's hungry. Would you hold him?"

"Yes, of course," he said and took the sleeping baby boy into his arms, while she sat up to nurse the girl, who was beginning to fuss. It occurred to him that with all the worrying about their situation, he had neglected a vital duty. "We need to name our children." And as soon as he said it, he knew what he wanted to call them. "Richard and Tasha," he said. "Richard, for my archaeology professor. He was my mentor and more of a father to me than my real one. And Tasha, for a very brave young woman I once knew."

Shea nodded. "Richard and Tasha. They're nice names. But don't call him Dick. I've always hated that nickname."

He smiled in response. "I promise." Then he paused, realizing she'd said something about her past and mildly sarcastic at that. "Do you remember any Dicks in your life?"

She chuckled.

He felt encouraged. "Shea, do you know where you are?"

"Of course. I'm on Ship."

"Yes, but do you understand that Ship is not in normal space? We created a time-space distortion, a bubble in reality." She merely scowled at him like she always did when he talked to her seriously. He tried a different approach. "Do you remember me telling you that your brain was injured and we've been waiting for you to heal? You need to focus, force yourself to recover. Your safety depends upon it." She merely smiled and shook her head in dismissal. He grew angry in his frustration. "Listen to me. If you don't care about your own welfare, consider our children's. Unless we find a way to deal with D and the Q, there's a very good chance none of us will survive. We need you whole."

He knew she could feel his desperation. Her smile was gone, but she merely looked perplexed and sad.

"Never mind," he said with a sigh. "I'm sure you're doing the best you can."

When both of the babies had nursed and fallen asleep, Shea closed her eyes and nodded off. Bashir had been poking his head in periodically, but this time he came in and stood beside him. "You should get some rest too," he said. "Doctor's orders."

Picard nodded and slowly stood, but felt reluctant to leave.

"I'll call you if anything changes," Bashir urged and practically pushed him from the room. "Go on now."

#

When Picard exited, Julian looked back at Shea sleeping peacefully, with her babies tucked under each arm. He lifted one of the infants gently trying not to disturb her, but she immediately opened her eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asked and she didn't sound friendly.

"I just want to weigh them and take their vitals. Go back to sleep. Everything's fine."

She scowled for a moment then seemed to accept him as a non-threat. She closed her eyes again. He put the infants in a self-monitored carrier and set them off to the side, out of harm's way. He was about to try something and he wasn't sure what the results would be. He'd been waiting until the babies were born, not wanting to endanger them. He'd been working on this all these months, testing his theories as best he could with programmed simulations and was convinced he'd found an effective treatment. Fairly convinced. Now that he stood here, syringe in hand, he was afraid. What if he were wrong? What if it made her worse? She was happy. Did he have the right to tamper with that?

He hadn't discussed this with his captain, neither wanting to raise false hopes, nor instill fear at the possibility of causing additional harm. Since their imprisonment in the safety of this bubble in time and space, the crew had adopted a policy of full disclosure. No more secrets. Everyone but him. He had been harboring a secret. He was about to re-engineer her basic genetic structure, for the better he hoped. This is what she'd wanted, he told himself, the very reason she had recruited him - to change her DNA, and release her from her crippling dependency.

_Oh the irony,_ he thought to himself, to dedicate his talents to making himself obsolete. If this worked, she would probably never lie in his bed again. And with that final sad thought, he administered the injection. Her eyelids fluttered, but she did not wake. He knew as he stood there, the nanobots he'd designed were streaming through her blood, replicating and making repairs, changing her on the inside. The Voyager EMH had introduced him to 29th Century nanotechnology. Combined with his own dedicated research, Julian had found a method that promised to create the alteration she sought without adversely affecting her recuperative abilities. If anything, these nanobots should improve tissue regeneration, and perhaps even restore her mind. He hoped for that, too. He missed her as she had been before.

He adjusted the monitors to alarm in the event of any significant variation in her vital signs, then sat in the chair Picard had vacated. He intended to witness any change that occurred. He yawned repeatedly. He'd had no more sleep than the new parents and it was catching up to him. He knew the alarms would sound, so it would be all right if he closed his eyes, just for a moment…

One of the infants mewled softly, and Shea was immediately awake. She sat up and saw the doctor asleep in the chair where Jean-Luc had been before. _Poor Julian, _she thought,_ he looks beat_. She noticed the alarms were set to go off on her biobed. It would be mean to wake him, so she shut them off. She got up to check on her babies. Despite the small sound she had heard, neither were awake. She thought about taking them back into bed with her, but then thought maybe she'd better not. Julian had moved them there. He was so smart. He must have had a good reason. As she watched them, she noticed a funny taste in her mouth… like metal.

She got herself some water from the dispensary unit and tried to wash the flavor away. Instead, it intensified. She drank some more… no better. She felt restless now, as if she suddenly had more energy than she knew what to do with. She paced quietly in her bare feet, not wanting to leave the room where her infants lay. Then her breathing stopped completely and so did her pacing as she froze in surprise. She didn't know whether to be scared or not, as she didn't seem to miss it. On the contrary, she felt perfectly fine. She just didn't need to inhale. She did anyway, just to see if she could. The air went in and out, but it seemed completely unnecessary. Perhaps she should tell Julian. She took a step toward him, then noticed she could feel the depth of Ship through the soles of her feet. She was used to getting additional sensory input from her hair, but her feet?

She knew hormones could play tricks on her body, but she didn't remember ever having an experience quite like this. But then, she didn't remember much at all. Not that it bothered her, or at least it hadn't up until this moment. Now it bothered her very much, and she struggled against the blank parts of her mind, trying to reconstruct what was missing. Apparently a great deal, she realized as she assessed the extent of the damage. No matter, she had back-ups. Why hadn't she accessed them before? But then she recognized that she hadn't even had enough wits left to remember her own failsafe procedures. One of the many things she had learned through her association with Vulcans in general and Spock in particular was how to compartmentalize the mind. It had saved her sanity on more than one occasion, along with her awareness and personal history, even in the face of apparent death.

She didn't particularly enjoy opening up to her Borg Queen personality, but it contained a backup of her memories. She opened that compartment of her mind and let it in, feeling a rush of information and experiences. Much of it referenced D and the time-space distortions, including the one Ship occupied now. And that meant she was safe from him. The impact of that revelation would have taken her breath away if she'd had one to lose. Instead she simply smiled in amazement and relief.

She put the Borg Queen personality aside, keeping only the lost memories. She felt wholly herself again. But there was another compartment in her mind, a box buried so deep, that until this moment, she would never even acknowledge it existed. Subconsciously, she'd always known it was there, of course, haunting her like a demon-eyed specter… but she had so feared to look upon it that she had lived in denial. Inside that box were the pages of her history that lay behind every headache she had ever experienced. She knew D was their author, but up to now she had refused to read what he had written there. Any thought of that box previously, had always resulted in renewed pain and loss of memory. Now, she thought hard about looking inside and felt no pain. The thought stayed intact, uninterrupted. She knew she needed to know what was there, but she was also certain that it would not be pleasant. She lowered herself to the floor in preparation, and put up a mental wall so that she would send no telepathic signals of distress. She didn't want to alarm anyone, nor accidentally share any of the hidden information until she understood it herself. She braced herself and opened the box.

Memories of D's unrelenting assaults hit her like a sledgehammer, making her gasp and sob. She stuffed a fist in her mouth to muffle herself. Why? Why? Why would he do that to her? How could anyone be that vicious, that cruel, that determined to break someone's mind and spirit, over and over? Especially an omnipotent being that could have and do anything he wanted. Yet, for some reason, he had attacked her repeatedly. Why would he bother? It made no sense. She desperately stuffed the remembered pain and disturbing visual imagery back into the box. She had to calm down and think. She was fine, she told herself determinedly. She was safe here. D couldn't touch her. Her heart slowly returned to a steady rhythm and the fight or flight reaction in her muscles calmed and faded. Then she remembered what Data had said, that D was afraid of her. She nearly laughed. It was definitely hard to fathom. Although she had to admit that it would explain a lot.

Fear was a very strong motivator. She thought about the ongoing power struggle between D and the Q. The Continuum asserted that adding her energy to theirs would allow them to subvert D and absorb his energy into theirs. But if that were true, wouldn't D want to befriend her, and make her his ally? Instead he tortured her, making her despise him. And in her experience, D had never seemed especially concerned by the Q. On the contrary, he treated them dismissively. No, the Q didn't worry D. She was certain of it.

Yet, for some reason, he had still been determined to keep her broken, and unable to focus. She had never been able to give D's interest in her more than a fleeting thought before he tortured her into delirium. On the other hand, at times he had also pleasured her beyond all measure, as if wanting her to love him, too. She shook her head at the schizophrenic behavior, uncertain what it all meant.

It also puzzled her that even in the face of D's oppression, she wasn't particularly tempted by the Q. She felt no allegiance to them, only antipathy. What she really wanted was to be free from all of them. She hoped Data was correct about fear being the underlying motivation, because if she learned what D truly feared, maybe she could finally put an end to all of this.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35 - Keeping Secrets

Stealth was an important consideration, so Shea was careful not to reveal what was happening to her over the next few weeks. She knew the crew were going stir-crazy, and Picard felt pressured to make a move soon. Her best choice to extend her time here was to remain seemingly helpless, a ready victim. She felt a little guilty hiding her recovered intellect, pretending incomprehension of the gravity of their situation. She especially felt bad about deceiving Julian, who now judged himself a failure. Inside her blood and tissues, she could feel the nanobots that he had injected into her. They had done a remarkable job of making repairs.

Her brain was now fully restored, along with that special organ in her core, the one that D had been so determined to eliminate. She had been employing it in secret, dabbling with its capabilities to phase in and out of alternate realities, and access the unseen oceans of energy that surrounded and buffered the parallel worlds from each other. She looked forward to the moment when she could thank Julian and let him realize his own genius.

But for now, she said nothing, and during his exams of her, she continued to look at him blankly, while the nanobots he'd engineered, followed her commands to send his instruments false readings and disguise her recovery. Her vital signs registered unchanged along with her IQ. As far as he and everyone else on board were concerned, she remained a contented imbecile.

Spock had noted odd energy readings on their scanners, but hadn't considered the possibility that she was the cause. Instead, he and Data theorized that the readings were reflected images from sources outside their bubble, possibly evidence of D or the Q searching for them. Shea knew better, but was pleased that the errant theory had served to lengthen their stay. Not even Ship realized she had recovered. She had learned to create a bubble within their bubble, so her activities went unobserved. When the time came that they must re-enter normal space, she was determined that nothing and no one give her secret away. The element of surprise might not be much of an advantage in the long run, but it might be the only one she had.

#

Six weeks of relative time had gone by since the birth of his children and Picard knew he had finally run out of arguments to stay here. There was nothing left that merited continuation of their self-imprisonment. This morning in his regular meeting with his senior staff, he admitted as much.

"I must commend all of you for your dedication and patience. Despite our efforts, Shea has been unable to recover. She suffered such extensive damage immediately before we created this zone of safety, that apparently, it was already too late. Dr. Bashir believes the injury to be permanent, and I am inclined to agree. Remaining here serves no purpose other than to delay the inevitable. Upon our return, D and the Q may recognize what we have done. I cannot predict how they will react, but I doubt it will be favorable to us. Going home may be the last thing we ever do."

"Aye, but I'd rather go down fighting, than die of boredom," Scotty said.

"I agree," Chorack snarled. "We must cease hiding here like cowards."

Picard frowned at Chorack's outraged tone. "It was our best strategy at the time, Mr. Chorack. There was nothing cowardly about it. It bought us a much needed respite and valuable time."

"Which was supposed to allow Shea to regain her memory, and fight back. It has not. The battle is ours," Chorack countered.

"So it would appear," Picard conceded. He looked to Data, Spock and Bashir, hoping they might have some positive input, but they remained silent. "I assume everyone agrees then?"

Spock nodded. "As you say, to remain here serves no purpose."

"I must regretfully concur," Data said. "I do not think it possible to protect her or to prevent conflict between D and the Q. Our efforts must now focus on containment and minimization of damage to inhabited worlds. We can share the technology to create safe-havens such as this until the conflict ceases."

"We can't move entire worlds into these bubbles," Scotty said.

"It is theoretically possible," Data stated, "given a sufficient source of energy. However, removal of a planet would wreak havoc in an existing solar system. I suggest protecting the life forms only."

"But we'd simply be hoping their worlds would still exist when the conflict ended," Picard replied. "And we have no idea how much time we would have to accomplish such a monumental task. Once we return, D and Q will probably know immediately what we've done here. Their response may take years, or only seconds. We must deal with this conflict at its origin. Rather than isolating potential victims, it would be far preferable to isolate the perpetrators."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "That would be the logical choice. Place the combatants in a fighting ring, so to speak."

"If they would listen to reason. Captain Picard has experienced only the occasional modicum of success in negotiating with them in the past," Data noted.

Picard sighed. His record at influencing the Q and D was spotty at best. Having the conviction of right on his side carried little weight. "The chances of my gaining their cooperation are only marginally better than our chances of outmaneuvering them. We can't rely on the expectation that they will act reasonably by our definition."

"Agreed. We must pursue all possible options," Data said. "If you could get D and the Q on board Ship, we could theoretically recreate this time-space bubble taking them with us. We would, however, be trapped as well."

"Couldn't they reverse our time-space bubble of their own accord?" Dr. Bashir asked.

"Theoretically, they could not," Data replied. "It would be our power source that created the bubble, so we would be in charge of dissolving it. However, I do not doubt that they could force us to do so."

"Not a pleasant situation to contemplate," Picard noted. "I'm not sure if this plan has any practical application since it would require the element of surprise, but, Data, as you are the only one they cannot anticipate, it will be at your discretion whether or not to attempt it."

"Understood," Data replied. "I will monitor the situation as it develops."

"Very well. To your stations, everyone. We're going home."

In short order, the entire crew was informed of their captain's decision. Picard thought he could hear cheers echoing in the depths of Ship's decks below. He wondered how happy they would be when D and Q confronted them. No help for it, he told himself. They had to return. He ordered all non-essential personnel off the bridge, leaving only Spock and Data there with him. He nodded to them to initiate the interphase procedure, and the thirteen warp cores came on line.

Picard was reasonably knowledgeable about the technological aspects of cloaking devices, but his understanding of how Ship moved through space and matter by use of her own organic nature remained somewhat mysterious. Federation use of cloaking devices was banned under the Algernon Treaty, an agreement which had long kept the peace with the Romulans - for the most part. Up until meeting Ship, his only experience with an interphase cloak had been with an experimental device recovered from the ill-fated Pegasus, last seen partially encased in an asteroid after the cloak failed half-way through it. The incident had killed the crew instantly.

Shea had assured him that Ship could organically phase through matter and force fields with ease and absolute safety, but Picard had seen for himself that failure meant being atomically interlaced with a foreign substance, and instantly fatal to all aboard. So the concept took some getting used to. With Shea's confidence bolstering him, Picard had overcome his initial nerves and learned to use the interphase capability when needed. It was that very capacity that had allowed Ship to duplicate D and the Q's ability and create this time-space bubble. Now they were about to pop it.

"Make it so," he ordered.

Ship's engines thrummed with an intensity normally unheard even on the most powerful starships. A mechanical vessel would have begun to crumble and fracture under the stress of employing all those Warp cores, but Ship's tissues stretched and undulated in waves instead, giving where needed, shortening and lengthening, reacting instinctively like the quick muscle reflexes in a runner's legs carrying him forward without conscious thought. The misty nothingness in the portals, flashed with light, then gave way to fields of black, sprinkled with stars, along with the blue, green, and white marbled surface of Earth below them in their re-established orbit, in the exact same place and moment from which in their experience they had departed over a year ago. Riker's angry voice was coming over the communication channel, still demanding an explanation. Picard knew that in Riker's view the Redemption had never left, and no time had passed during their absence.

"Deactivate cloak and lower shields," Picard ordered. "Redemption to Enterprise. We surrender, unconditionally."

Riker's voice came back immediately. "Prepare to be boarded."

"Understood."

"My Captain, are you sure? I can defend you," Ship said.

"No, Ship. Offer no resistance. That's an order."

A moment later, the three remaining members of the bridge crew of the Redemption were surrounded by Enterprise security personnel. Worf pointed a phaser at Picard, who smiled sadly and put his hands in the air.

"Bridge secure," Worf reported. Riker soon joined them.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," Riker said.

"Yes, I know," Picard replied. "I just hope I have the time to do it."

"You're going to have plenty of time, trust me. So why don't you just start now?"

"Certainly." Picard wiggled his raised arms questioningly, " May I?" When Riker nodded permission, he let them drop to his sides. "We needed the warp cores to create sufficient power for Ship to create a time-spatial distortion, a bubble if you will. We've been gone for over a year."

Riker scowled at him. "You're not making any sense."

"It's the same thing that D does to Shea, a time-spatial displacement, unobservable to anyone not experiencing the phenomenon personally. We were able to duplicate it. We stayed away, hoping Shea would find a way to resist D and the Q, but unfortunately, she… she could not. So we waited instead for her to give birth, then returned."

"Your children have been born?" Riker asked incredulously. Picard simply nodded in affirmation. Riker seemed to shake himself back to his previously outraged state. "So Shea stole all those warp cores, and destroyed a starship in the process, for a vacation?"

"Actually, I stole the warp cores," Data confessed. "I apologize for the damage. I cannot say that I did not anticipate that very possibility, which is why I had Ship transport the station personnel to Earth for safety."

"It was my research upon which we based the calculations for the number of warp cores required and the method by which we should obtain them," Spock stated.

Riker frowned in response. "It doesn't matter which of you did what. You're all in this together, and you'll all be prosecuted. Until then, you'll stay in our Brig." He tapped his com badge. "Enterprise, transport the Redemption personnel on the bridge directly to separate detention cells. Locate Shea and do the same."

Picard started to object to the last order, but the transporter beam cut his words off as it whisked him away. When he materialized behind a force field, he sat on the small seat within and watched the other cells fill with his people. The last was Shea, who looked around in surprise. He felt bad about that. She was in no condition to understand what was happening or why. Though her mind lacked depth, they remained connected, so he tried to project a sense of calm to her. She focused on him and he waved, then motioned for her to sit down and relax. He felt relieved when she followed his instructions and didn't seem panicked.

Spock stood in the cell directly across from him. Data was on his right. Shea had been placed several cells away and across, with no neighbor. Of course, Riker assumed she was responsible for all of this. About an hour later, Riker showed up, looking serious. He stood in front of Shea's cell first.

"I hope you're happy," he said with bitter sarcasm.

She blinked at him then smiled and said, "Thank you," in a tone of genuine appreciation.

He glowered at her. "I'm not even going to try to talk to you." He turned away and marched over to Picard's cell. "Well, you've certainly squandered your pardon from Starfleet. They want you transferred to Command headquarters for arraignment. Something tells me they're not going to waste any time bringing charges. We're bringing all your personnel over here temporarily, till we arrange for suitable relocation. Except Bleton. I'll leave him to tend to Ship. Hopefully, once free of Shea's influence, they'll both go back where they came from."

Picard nodded. "Sounds exactly like what I would do if I were in your shoes, and didn't know any better."

Riker looked to the ceiling in annoyance. It took him a moment before he could return his eyes level with Picard's. "All right. You obviously think I need to know something. What is it?"

"We need to join forces. We won't be alone for long. No doubt, we are being watched even now."

"That same tired old tune. _They're coming for her, watch out. It's the end of the world._ You've played it, one too many times. I'm not singing along anymore. She's on her own as far as I'm concerned. If D or the Q want her, they can have her and good riddance. She's been nothing but trouble since day one. This latest stunt is just one more on a long list. And please, don't try to defend her, or explain your motives. I don't want to hear it."

Picard recognized he was wasting his breath. Will was on a warpath and had closed his mind determinedly. He could understand his friend's frustration at being repeatedly put on the opposing side, where he had to enforce Federation law against a man he had once held in such high esteem. Sometimes personal heroes have a very long way to fall, and right now in Will's eyes, his old captain had taken that plunge.

"I understand," Picard said, and said no more.


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36 - Confinement

As they waited in their separate detention cells, Data and Spock engaged in conversation. Picard listened, but said little. The subject of discussion was Q.

"He has repeatedly demonstrated the ability to operate us like puppets," Data commented. "He has forced us to stand trial, and fight battles against our will. I, personally, will never forget how Q made me laugh hysterically, and I was not equipped with an emotion chip at the time."

"That must have been disconcerting," Spock said.

"Yes. However, it was a wonderful feeling as well. The experience proved highly influential when I debated the wisdom of incorporating the emotion chip into my positronic net."

"Glad to have been of service," Q interjected from an adjoining cell. He looked about. "What miserable décor. Would you like me to make it more esthetically pleasing?"

"No, I would not," Picard said, not the least surprised by the unannounced arrival of their visitor.

"There's that knee-jerk reaction again. Reject, defend, deny. You could try being a little flexible, just for a change."

Picard paused and reconsidered. "Very well. Decorate it, however you like. I don't care."

"Really? You don't mind?" Q paused then smiled. "I know just the thing." He snapped his fingers and the brig was transformed into something out of Arabian Nights. Brightly colored rugs, couches, cushions, and wall hangings in gemlike hues of gold, turquoise and ruby red replaced the austere monochrome surroundings. The force fields imprisoning them in their individual cells vanished in a far more congenial arrangement. Q reclined on one of the silk-covered couches, munching on grapes now. "Oh yes, that's much better."

Picard found himself seated on a large multi-colored ottoman, then noticed that Shea, now freed from her cell, had scooted up beside him. He smiled and automatically put an arm around her.

"Where are my babies?" she asked.

"Probably with Dr. Bashir, or perhaps Dr. Crusher. Don't worry. I'm sure someone's taking good care of them."

"You don't sound sure," Q noted. "They're quite small and vulnerable, aren't they? Shouldn't they be with their mother?"

"Preferably, yes," Picard agreed.

"Well, then, let's fix that." Q snapped his fingers again and the infants were in Shea's arms. She took them over to another couch and turned her attention to nursing them. "Aw, what a sweet picture of motherly devotion. But I'm rather put out, you know. Here I went to all that trouble educating your Mr. Spock, and then you turned that shared knowledge against me, ran off and denied me. I didn't even get to witness their births. You might have extended me an invitation. Instead, I found myself excluded. That wasn't very nice of you."

"No, I suppose it wasn't. I should apologize."

Q narrowed his eyes. "You're trying to ingratiate yourself. It's annoying and so unlike you."

"Perhaps I'm just tired, tired of fighting you. Obviously, it's been a waste of time and effort seeing as we're right back where we started. You in control. We your unwilling subjects. And Shea has suffered irreparable damage in the process."

Q's gaze tracked over to Shea. "She is rather simple now, isn't she? Not nearly so interesting as before. Not that I'm to blame for that. No, that wasn't my doing."

"Can you restore her?"

Q shook his head. "You're going to have to take it up with the party who caused the damage. Good luck with that." He shrugged. "If only you'd listened to me sooner. I might have prevented this tragic outcome, but here you are bereft, and there she is, a shadow of her former self. Such a pity."

"Yes, it is," Picard agreed, but he didn't let his tightly controlled emotions get the better of him. Instead, he concentrated on Q. "So now what?"

Q cocked his head in surprise. "Are you turning your fate over to me?"

Picard smiled humorlessly. "Was there ever a time when you were not in charge of our fates?"

"Finally. Recognition. It took you long enough."

"So again, I ask. Now what?"

"Give her to the Q. We'll take it from here. No need for you to stress over this any longer."

"Why is she mine to give?"

"She listens to you. Tell her to cooperate."

"Which means she still has the ability to resist. Thanks for clearing that up."

Q sat up, giving Picard his full attention. "If she resists, it will be painful and messy. Convince her to cooperate. You'll be doing her a favor, I assure you."

"What about D? He's not going sit idly by."

Q's gaze flickered from one corner of the room to the other, betraying his concern, but he said, "We're fully prepared for any interference."

"You think so?" D asked, now sitting beside Shea and her babies. He peered into their small faces, before turning to Picard. " Congratulations on becoming a father. Children are so promisingly unpredictable, aren't they? You just never know how they'll turn out, even when you play with their genetics. I've sired a number of them over the years, but I never seem to grow tired of the process. As you know, I have my eye on your widowed sister-in-law now. She's an excellent candidate."

"I'd much prefer that you turned your eye elsewhere."

"That's not how she feels. You're rather dictatorial about the women in your life. Actually, you're rather dictatorial, period. Comes with Captain's chair, I suppose."

"When it comes to being controlling, I don't hold a candle to you."

"True enough. It's rather fun being in charge, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know," Picard sighed and looked from one omniscient being to the other, trying to assess how to play this. What should he say, how should he respond, was it possible to coerce or persuade? Did they already know everything he was thinking? Were they anticipating his every move?

"Of course, we are" Q said. "You want us to get on board your newly christened Redemption, so that Data can quickly whisk us all away to a time-space bubble of your own creation, hoping we'll fight it out there and spare the universe any collateral damage. A fairly good plan, actually. Too bad it's not happening. This Q will not be trapped in any bubble not of his own creation."

"Yes, sorry to disappoint you, Captain," D chimed in. "You simply can't think fast enough to outmaneuver us. Your mind is like an open book, and the pages turn at a glacial pace. That's why I find living in human form so relaxing. You might compare it to a meditation exercise, a lesson in patience and extended concentration, moving through time and space with the grace of tai chi in slow motion. In my natural state, I went to the end of time and back, again and again, boomeranging from one to the other. Eventually, no pleasure in it remained so I searched for something new. Then I found Earth and the refuge of organic life forms, slowing down within them to experience the depths of matter, to contemplate the nuances of existence, and enjoy the flavors in the slow lineal passage of time."

"Fascinating," Spock observed. "Whereas we aspire to move on from these corporeal forms to a higher level of awareness, it appears you have chosen to limit yourself to ours."

"Not exactly, Mr. Spock. I have chosen to enjoy your level of awareness, but I am by no means limited to it."

The outer door opened to reveal Captain Riker and Worf.

"What the hell?" Riker asked immediately upon seeing the Arabian Night's theme in all its splendor instead of the detention cells he had been expecting.

"Still wearing that awful beard, I see. I had hoped your wife would make you shave it off," Q said.

"So I have you to thank for this?" Riker asked angrily.

"Yes and you're quite welcome," Q said with a smile. "Grape?"

Riker looked at the extended grapes and frowned deeply. "No, thank you. Why have you brought us here? What's this all about?"

"Here? Here, where?" Q scowled, and a look of alarm crossed his features. He waved a hand and large portal appeared on the outer wall showing a view to the outside. Except there was nothing to view. No stars, no Earth. Nothing at all. He spun about to face D.

"What treachery is this?"

D walked over to stare out the portal. "This isn't my work."

Slowly the Redemption drifted into view, floating in the same grey nothingness as they.

"But, but how?" Q sputtered. "I would have felt those engines coming online. I was watching."

"As was I," D said. His gaze swept over Picard and Data and the others, dismissing each of them in turn, until at last he focused hard on Shea. She cooed to her infants without seeming to notice anything amiss. He turned back to Q, and grabbed him by the throat. "It had to have been you."

Q clawed at D's hand and croaked repeated denials. D wasn't buying it. "Dissolve it, now!" When the nothingness remained unchanged, he began to pull Q in different directions as if he were made of taffy. The nothing stayed the same. D balled Q up in his fists and dug his fingers into the red doughy mass, twisting and tearing it. Q's screams made the humans grimace and put hands over their ears to block the sound.

Picard couldn't bear witnessing the horrendous torture one more moment. "Stop! You must stop this!" My God, don't you think he would have complied by now if he could?"

D paused as he regarded Picard's interference with some surprise then turned back to the putty like mess in his hands that only vaguely resembled something that might have once had shape. There was still a somewhat recognizable nose and mouth. The latter whimpered, "It wasn't me, I swear. It wasn't me." D pulled his hands free, and let the balled flesh splat to the floor. He turned back to the large portal and walked through it, eliminating it in the process. Picard and the others gasped and braced themselves to be blown through the opening in sudden decompression. Instead, nothing happened. The outside pressure was no different than that inside, and once they realized there was no immediate danger, they followed D out into the grey mist.

Picard watched D examine the mist suspiciously, running his hands through it, smelling it, tasting it. Picard noted that the grey cloudlike substance didn't feel cold as he'd expected, nor warm either. He couldn't really feel anything at all. Shea was there next to him, keeping close by. He turned to look at her and she took his hand in hers. He felt grateful for its solidity and warmth. He saw D turning toward them with his icy gaze, and he felt Shea tense beside him.

"It's all right," Picard told her and squeezed her hand. "I've got you."

She squeezed back. "Ditto." And then she disappeared.


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37 - Confrontation

Showtime… that was the word that came to mind. No more pretense, no more hiding. D knew it was she who had brought them here. He'd tasted the flavor of her in the nothingness. She could see from here that Q was back on his feet, seeming none the worse for D's mangling of him only moments earlier. She stared down at them from the top of Ship as she walked along the dark smooth surface, waiting. D and Q stared back. She could feel Picard's confusion as he followed their gaze upward to land on her pacing above them there, so far away, yet clearly identifiable. She wanted to explain, to comfort him, but she needed her full concentration, so she cut off all contact, leaving him and the others to sort it out on their own.

#

"How did she get up there?" Riker asked.

"Probably just like this," Q replied and snapped his fingers. Then he too was standing on Ship's outer hull.

Picard looked at D, expecting him to do the same. Instead, D simply crossed his arms, and stood there watching with the rest of them.

"This should be interesting," he said.

Q approached her. Shea stood in place, either unfazed or accepting there was no escape… it was hard to tell which. When Q reached a hand toward her, a giant black tentacle from Ship snatched him up, whipped him back and forth, smashing him against the outer hull in a blur of motion, then launched him in their direction. He splatted onto the ground at their feet.

"Ow," Q said forlornly, lying there.

"Having a bad day, Q?" D asked and poked him with a toe. Q groaned in protest and rolled over. "Serves you right," D told him. "This is your fault."

Q sat up and tugged his twisted limbs back into proper shape. "How is this my fault? You're the one who made her."

"But you're the one who woke her. We were doing so nicely as she was. You just had to meddle, didn't you?"

Q seemed distracted by the state of his body as he poked and prodded it back to life. His concaved chest filled again and he stood. "I hate being human," he grumbled.

"That's because you go about it all wrong," D said. He looked back up at Shea, still standing above them. "She's eager for a confrontation, ready to show off her new found talents. Come on, everyone, let's go inside. I'll buy you all a drink."

Picard and the rest suddenly found themselves seated in Ten-Forward. Guinan stood there with Q and D flanking her on either side. Her brown eyes opened wide and she hissed at Q.

"Now, now, none of that," D admonished her. "Join us, please."

"I'd rather not," she said, and tried to leave.

"Have a seat, Guinan," he said and she abruptly sat in a chair that simultaneously appeared beneath her. He looked about the table. "Let's see. We have Captain Picard, Captain Riker, Mr. Data, Mr. Spock, and Mr. Worf, but we're still missing some key figures." He started pointing and as he did so, the table expanded to accommodate more people, and he named them as they appeared: "Dr. Julian Bashir, Mr. Chorack, Mr. Montgomery Scott, Commander Deanna Troi-Riker, Dr. Beverly Crusher, and Mr. Geordi La Forge. Oh, and of course, her infants. There, that should be more than sufficient."

As the babies appeared nearby in their beds, Picard grasped the implication. He would control Shea by threatening them.

"Only if necessary," D stated, obviously having read his mind. "I don't believe in wasting energy or resources needlessly."

Shea was walking toward them. "Then don't," she said. "They have nothing to do with this."

"True, but having them present should slow you down," D replied, "Make you think before you act. You tend toward rash behavior. I'd rather talk than fight."

"I'm not surprised. You prefer to dominate and torture others into submission. And you do it best, when no one can offer any resistance. You're a coward and a bully."

"Such harsh judgment and so unwarranted. How can you measure bravery when there is no threat? As for being a bully… I must protest. I treat everyone with exactly the amount of respect and courtesy they deserve, and no more cruelty than they need. I pride myself on that."

"So you're insinuating that I got what I deserved."

"Was I unclear, my Sweet? My apologies. I am stating clearly, emphatically, and without equivocation that you received exactly what you asked for, no more and no less. I trust you found the game as entertaining as you had hoped."

Everyone's jaw dropped slightly open, even Q's.

"A game?" Q demanded heatedly, "The two of you have been playing a game?"

D sighed heavily. "How else does one find amusement when faced with eternity?"

"It's a lie," Shea said. "I would never agree to being treated like that."

"Perhaps you haven't remembered everything yet. Give it time. I'm sure it will come to you."

"I remember plenty," she said.

"But you've been asleep for an extended period of time. Surely you must recognize that your mind is still fuzzy."

"On the contrary, I see you with crystal clarity."

"Only the negative parts, the oppositional portion, the fraction you made the bet against. You do love your wagers. Riker here can attest to that."

She shared a look with Will, who frowned in response.

"What kind of wager?" Picard asked, beginning to believe there might be some truth to D's version of events. He could see the hurt in Shea's face at the question.

"I told her I could keep her asleep for a thousand years. She bet I couldn't. And here we are. I win."

"A thousand years?" Picard repeated incredulously.

"A bit more actually. I was still having fun. Especially with this latest incarnation. I just love the juxtapositions. The extreme dependency versus open rebelliousness. The raw sexuality with the computer like intellect. Her delicate femininity contrasting with homicidal tendencies. Simultaneously so vulnerable and yet so resilient. The contrasts kept her continually off-balance and unsure of her own abilities and self-worth. I'm quite proud of my creation. She certainly caught your attention, and that was no easy task."

"So, you're saying that you kept it up for your personal amusement even after you'd won your bet."

He shrugged. "Why would I stop when it was still entertaining? You have to remember this covered a relatively short period in the overall scheme of our existence. Just one of your card games takes up more of your expected lifetime than this did of ours."

"If you made a bet, there must have been something at stake," Riker ventured.

"Oh, you mean like a cutting-edge jazz piano, or a day in the Captain's chair on the Enterprise?" D chuckled in amusement. "Nothing like that, I assure you. No, the gain was in the winning, the pleasure was in the process. My prize is the defeat of boredom. For someone like myself, that is a major accomplishment."

"One of the Q killed himself because of it," Q stated. "We tried to stop him, but…"

"So you can die?" Spock asked.

"Only if we choose it," Q replied.

"Sounds peaceful," Shea said softly.

"And yet whenever it threatens, you fight tooth and claw and come crawling back to me begging for more. It's pitiful how much you need me. It must be love."

"I don't need you," Shea said. "And I certainly don't love you."

"Apparently you do, since you refuse to go away. Perhaps I should refresh your memory. Remind you of what only I can do for you."

"Touch me and I'll rip your head off."

"You could try." D glanced about and smiled at Chorack and Worf. "Oh look, the Klingons are getting all aroused." They both flushed and snarled in anger.

"You are a disgrace," Worf said. "Wasting your abilities."

"Didn't your parents ever warn you about all work and no play?"

Worf growled again and shook his head. Chorack remained silent.

"You understand, don't you, Mr. Chorack?" D teased. "The rougher, the better."

Chorack glared at him. "You have no right to ask this of me."

"Oh, I have the right. That's my toy, you've been playing with. Remember that, all of you. " He gestured around the table at the rest of them. "She's only on loan."

"Enough," Shea said. "You're twisting everything. This ends now."

"It ends when I say," D snapped. "Mind your manners. None of your playmates have been witness to our interaction so far, but that could easily change."

Shea seemed to lose her nerve for a moment, blanching at the prospect.

Q made a face. "Ugh, spare us that, please."

Picard intervened. "D, you obviously have us all at a disadvantage. What isn't obvious is what you want at this point."

"Why, simply to continue the game, of course."

"Why don't I believe you?" Deanna asked.

"Oh, the Betazed… she thinks she can sense what I'm feeling. Comical."

"I don't believe you either," Shea said. "This is no game. This is a war. I think you're losing ground and that's why you keep putting more and more pressure on me, and it's not working anymore."

"You, my sweet, are in serious need of attention," D said. Then almost faster than their eyes could register, he grabbed her and threw her onto the table.

Picard's feeling of outrage was instantly replaced with an overwhelming lust that overrode all reason and inhibition. Apparently the sensation was mutually shared by them all and they acted accordingly. Together, they accosted Shea and each other, out of their minds with sudden all consuming sexual hunger. Somewhere in the middle of the melee, Shea abruptly disappeared, her body vanishing beneath the pile of naked human flesh. D cursed as the spell broke, and they all froze in dismay. They pulled away from each other, self-consciously untangling themselves with mumbled apologies. Picard glanced at Beverly, with whom he had been intimately engaged a moment before. Her face nearly matched the color of her fire-red hair as she hid in her chair behind crossed legs and arms. He felt bad for her, but neither guilty nor embarrassed. He was angry.

"We have nothing to be ashamed of," he told them all. "That wasn't our doing." He turned to D, who stood with his back to them, staring out the open portal. "Now what have you done with her?" D made no response, as if he hadn't even heard the question.

Q was watching D as well. "But that's just it, don't you see? He didn't do anything. She left. Without permission, despite him. That's twice now."

"So she's matching him," Picard said in wonder. He turned back to Q who appeared to be paying attention to him. "Would you mind?" Picard requested, raising his hands in supplication at his disconcerting nakedness, and the fact that he and the others reeked of sex and sweat.

"Gladly," Q replied, with a grimace, and they were all back in their respective uniforms, fresh and clean. "Trust me, I enjoyed witnessing that even less than you enjoyed doing it." He seemed to shudder.

"What's really going on here?" Picard asked.

"I'm not sure," Q confessed, and turned his attention to D. "It's time to stop the pretense, D. Who or what exactly are we dealing with?"

D turned back but seemed to hesitate, and Picard thought he actually looked nervous. "Something we've never encountered before," D said finally. "Too bad your suicidal Q didn't hold out longer. He would have discovered an unknown."

"You told us she was a predecessor of yours, a Q equivalent."

"It was as good a theory as any," D replied. "But I really don't know if she is related to us at all."

"You said she was an irritant, a thorn in your side that you extracted and imprisoned in human form."

"Partially true. I discovered her in the Chaos, and she followed me back into this universe, uninvited. She was so curious - pestering me, challenging me. She truly was a thorn. I convinced her that the only way to understand this new reality was to experience it directly just as I had. I've managed to keep her trapped in flesh ever since."

"Simply for your amusement?" Q inquired.

"Would that it were," D replied. "No, the consequences of her independence could threaten the balance of power in this universe, perhaps our very existence."

Q frowned in puzzlement. "If she is so dangerous, why did you not employ the Q to help restrain her?"

"I did employ you. Your efforts to recruit her in seeming opposition to me, offered a much needed distraction, demanding her attention and focus. She never had a moment to truly relax, to contemplate and reflect long enough to gain perspective. When I realized you had demonstrated to her playmates how to create a time-space bubble, I destroyed her corporeal intellect. She never should have woken no matter how long she enjoyed her respite from my attentions, but unfortunately, it seems her doctor gained knowledge of 29th Century technology and employed it when I was denied access to her. Once her brain tissues were restored, the pieces began falling into place."

Julian whooped aloud. "I did it! I thought it didn't work, but it did. I cured her."

"Don't let it go to your head," D warned him. "Now we have a full blown war to deal with. Hardly an improvement."

"But if we combine forces," Q interjected. "All of the Q together with you, surely…"

"Have you forgotten that she has us trapped in here?"

"The other Q will be searching for me. They'll break through."

"Maybe. If and when they locate us. I do not know her limitations. Awake, she can defy me, and you. As you've already experienced."

"So that was all her?" Q asked in surprise. "I assumed you had a hand in that."

"No, I wanted to see what she would do, what she could do." D looked concerned. "The longer we stay here, the weaker we become while she grows more aware. This is not a good development for either of us."


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38 - A New Strategy

"Are you all right, Sweet Shea?" Ship asked. "Your behavior seems somewhat unusual."

"I'm okay, Ship," she answered, opening her eyes. "I'm just thinking." She was sitting on the bridge, not in a chair, or on the floor, but floating a few feet in the air. It felt natural, with no clothing or object pressing against her flesh, just the warmth of Ship's expended energy surrounding every inch of her.

"My monitors indicate that my gravity field is operational, and yet you appear to be in freefall."

"Don't let it worry you. You're fully functional. You did great helping me earlier. Thank you."

"I really enjoyed thrashing Q. Will I get the opportunity to do it again?"

"It's entirely possible, unless I can figure a way to end this peacefully."

"They appear to be keeping their distance for now. Reassessing, I assume."

"Yes."

"They have taken hostages. Are you concerned for their safety?"

"No."

Ship fell silent, and Shea closed her eyes again.

"Perhaps I should rephrase the question for clarity," Ship interrupted again. "Do you believe D intends to harm the hostages in an attempt to influence you?"

"Most likely."

"Yet you feel no concern. Do you intend to allow them to be harmed rather than be influenced? Will you take no action to defend them? Are you not saddened by their absence?"

"Ship, that's enough questions. Be quiet now."

She knew Ship was worried that she was turning back into some version of the Demon Goddess, when she cared about no one but herself. Part of her shared the same fear, but if she feared it then it must not be true. Still she recognized that she was changing, opening up to a new reality, a new definition of herself, or rather a very old one, long forgotten. This human form had limited her awareness, but she was taking control of it now, resting within it without feeling constrained. Her awareness moved outward in all directions, taking in the body of Ship, and the Enterprise below with all its many occupants. She could feel their worry, discomfort, and desire for answers and resolution. She recognized D and Q there among them, but to know their mood and thoughts, she would need to touch them mentally, which would, no doubt, lead to an immediate confrontation, so she stayed clear. Instead, she let her mind move outward beyond the bubble she had created, into the layer of surrounding energy, tapping it, pulling more raw strength into herself.

She looked further outward into the space they had left behind, where stars pierced velvet black and the blue marbled Earth revolved slowly in its orbit. There she saw the energy signatures of the Q Continuum, come to investigate, knowing now that something was amiss in this sector of their universe. She decided a distraction would be of value, so she pulled a thread of energy in the layer and a distant sun in an uninhabited system, exploded. The Q moved away, headed for the disturbance. When she knew they were gone, she retreated to her body again, returning her attention to dealing with D and Q, trapped within this bubble she had created along with the people she professed to love.

She wondered if she still did. But before she could answer that, she needed to know who she was and why she was here.

#

The import of the discussion between D and Q regarding the threat of Shea's growing awareness was not lost on Picard.

"So you're putting us in the middle, hoping it will turn her aside," Picard concluded.

"You may hope that, if you choose," D replied. "You may even choose to believe that she will offer you protection. I suspect she will not. She's changing, remembering that she's not like us, and she's not like you. As a species, you share nothing in common. It seems unlikely that she will continue to care, yet it is my hope that she will. We'll learn if any attachment remains when I put it to the test."

"So we're little more than cannon fodder."

"For a human, you have a quick mind. Having you in the way may slow her down enough for Q and I to restrain her, but I'd say your chances of survival are minimal."

Picard had already accepted that. What worried him more was that his infants were now missing. "Where are my children?" he asked.

"Safe for now. They're my ace in the hole, as you like to say."

Q scowled, listening to the exchange. "Must they all be sacrificed? I've grown rather fond of them."

D shrugged in reply. "You're welcome to join them."

"I'm not that fond," Q replied quickly. He met Picard's gaze. "Don't look at me like that. You're mortal and expect to die anyway. What's a few dozen years, give or take?"

"Merely the rest of our lives," Picard answered. Q looked away.

"Is it your intent to destroy her?" Picard asked.

D shook his head and smiled. "Even you know that energy cannot be destroyed. She cannot die in the same sense that your frail bodies can. I must re-route her and gain control."

"If that's possible, why haven't you done it before?"Riker asked.

"Oh I have, many times. Between every transition from one human form to the next, I absorb her energy into mine, but it's uncomfortable and unsustainable. We are different, operating on incompatible frequencies. As long as she resists, the struggle to contain her soon becomes unmanageable, and I have to throw her back into flesh again."

"Then why not just let her be free?" Picard demanded.

Q looked at Picard in surprise. "I've explained this to you before. We have a responsibility. We can't allow unauthorized omnipotent beings to roam freely throughout our universe, unsupervised, unrestrained, doing whatever they please. It's bad enough that D insists on retaining his separation from the Q. We certainly can't permit a third party to operate independently." Q looked thoughtful for a moment, before addressing D again. "I suppose you've tried returning her to the Chaos."

D nodded. "She won't stay put. She prefers this existence, even when I make it extremely unpleasant. She keeps coming back."

"So how long do we have?" Dr. Bashir asked.

"That's up to her," D replied.

"Let's hope she's in no hurry," Q said. "We would be better positioned if the other Q break us free and join forces with us first." Then he looked at the hostages. "You should hope for that too, then maybe we won't need to employ you as a human shield."

#

Through Picard's mind, Shea listened to every word and wondered how much was fact and how much was fiction. D and Q were known liars and shameless manipulators when it came to interacting with humans, and knew she would be eavesdropping. She couldn't rely on anything they said to Picard and the others. She had to remember her history herself in order to know the truth. She pulled another string in the cosmos, creating a tear in the fabric of reality, and the Continuum rushed toward it, distracted once more. They would catch on to the source of the disturbances soon and locate her bubble. She concentrated harder, following her memories back, one lifetime lived before the other, trying to find the beginning. How it all started. D said he had found her in the Chaos. She remembered that other reality from the times he had sent her there, claiming it was her source of origin. She had believed him then and maybe it was true. Unlike humans, she was fairly comfortable there, but was it home? If so, then why was she so determined to escape from it?

She thought back to what she remembered of that undulating environment, where shadow and substance morphed, one into the other, seamlessly and endlessly. It made most minds insane within moments. In contrast, she found it reasonably pleasant, a floating dream, with no threat of pain or promise of pleasure to disturb one's existence. It also was boring, and lonely, and meaningless. That's what she remembered. The phrase, 'nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there,' came to mind. No wonder she'd wanted to escape from it. Especially after getting a taste of this universe… not mere existence, but life, full of sensation, emotion, consequences and triumphs.

Here, she could do things that changed how others lived and felt and reacted to her and interacted with her. She could love, she could hate, she could create a concrete experience with continuity and consistency that didn't immediately morph away into something unrecognizable. Now she understood what this universe meant to her and why she couldn't stay away, no matter what D did to her, or how much it hurt. Even pain was better than the endless emptiness. Unfortunately, D's suspicion of her dominated their interaction, and because she had been so hungry to experience this mode of existence she had been willing to do anything that allowed her access to it. In exchange he dominated her ruthlessly, but not completely. She kept herself apart from him despite his efforts. His rage and frustration took the form of the torture he put her through. But he was human enough that he wanted her to love him too. That's why the schizophrenic behavior kept showing up, one moment pleasuring her, the next crushing her. As she remembered it all, she understood him more and more clearly.

Now the question was how best to use that knowledge and obtain what she desired?


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39 - Awaiting the End

The clock on the computer continued to measure time passing, although it was only relative to the experience of those on board the Enterprise and on Ship above them as they floated together trapped in this grey nothingness. Beverly had surrendered to the tedium of waiting, resting her head upon the table, apparently asleep. Picard restrained himself from touching her exposed hand in an instinct to offer comfort. From the far side of the table, Deanna offered him a tired smile. Any lingering resentments over recent events had been forgiven. They were all in this together. He wondered if he'd done the right thing. His determination to help Shea discover her true nature, to guide her, and protect her had led them all to this. On some level, he supposed he'd always known it would end like this - that she would turn into something else, something unknown. Looking back, he couldn't think what he would have done differently, even knowing what was to come. But what was to come? He didn't have the answer to that yet. And apparently, neither did Q or D.

Riker sighed deeply. "We can't just keep sitting here like this. It's been hours."

"Your stomach's full, your bladder's empty. You have no more physical need or discomfort than your android friend next to you. So yes, you can keep sitting there, just like that, for as long as necessary," D replied coldly. Riker looked at Data beside him.

"Remaining still is not a challenge for me," Data confirmed. "Not thinking would be."

More time passed and they spent it talking, remembering their common history, laughing at themselves at times, sharing unexpressed appreciation for each other's virtues and venting old hurts at apparent slights. It was cathartic. Q and D ignored them. If they were listening at all, it appeared to make little impact and so their prisoners ignored their captors in return, recognizing only each other. As they continued to talk and share, they lost track of time and its meaning. The only thing that felt truly important was the friendship they shared. And then at some point, long after they had lost track of time passing, Shea appeared, and all conversation stopped.

Picard looked at her standing there, seemingly the same woman he'd known and loved and married. She held up a hand in warning, just as he was about to speak her name. D and Q moved to flank her, putting the humans at the table between them. She moved her gaze to Picard and the others, and focused on Riker.

"Will, seeing as you're in no position to give orders around here, this might be a good time for me to collect on that bet," she said.

He smiled in surprise. "Be my guest," he replied.

She immediately addressed the entire ship. "All personnel abandon ship. This is not a drill. Abandon ship." The general alarm sounded in response.

"What's the point of that?" Riker asked. "They've nowhere to go."

"They will soon. Q's cohorts are breaking through as we speak. By the time, your crew evacuates, we'll be right above Earth again." Q smiled in triumph and Shea smiled back. "Yes, Q, your friends are here and we'll wait for them. I wouldn't want anyone to feel left out." Q's smile faded in the face of her confidence.

"You know, Will. I've also been thinking about how much you liked that piano of mine. I doubt that I'll be needing it after this, so I want you to have it." The piano in question suddenly appeared next to her. She sat on the bench and activated the keyboard. "It has some special features I'd like to demonstrate for you. This is no ordinary instrument. Ship made it for me from her own flesh, so in a way, it's actually a living thing." She began playing, filling the available space with soaring music. The piano spouted waving tentacles as she played, keeping time with the music as they rapidly grew longer and stretched across the floor, reaching up along the walls and ceiling like incredibly fast growing vines, fully covering all the surfaces. Sparks lit up the hands of Q and D as they prepared for an assault, but the tentacles made no move toward them and instead dove into the floor and walls themselves, tearing them asunder.

"What are doing?" Riker cried out in protest. "You're destroying my ship."

"Trust me," she said and kept on playing. As she did so, the grey nothingness on the other side of the portal vanished, replaced by the blackness of space and Earth revolving below. They could now see the Enterprise escape shuttles shooting towards the planet. Then hundreds of glowing energy forms rushed forward entering through the portal to stand behind Q extending outward as far as they could see and a deep voice emanated from an unseen central source.

"We are the Q Continuum. Submit or be destroyed."

"Yes, yes, I know," she replied calmly, still playing her music. "Resistance is futile."

"We are not Borg," the voice replied.

"No, but you do seem to have a lot in common. Fear of free will, and a determination to suppress it. D's independence makes you crazy and the prospect of mine, even crazier. I'm not sure this universe is being well served by you."

"That is not for you to judge."

"Maybe it is. As Picard has pointed out to you repeatedly, what you lack is a moral compass. You and D both do whatever you think expedient, taking the shortest route from A to B, regardless of the pain and suffering it causes the individual life forms affected, flippantly proclaiming that only you can see the big picture and that these are simply trifling losses in the overall scheme of things. Maybe you need a different perspective. Morality would allow you to recognize that the true beauty in life is in the details."

"The Q have moral superiority to all other life forms."

"So you say. But like Captain Picard, I don't see it. I think you're sadly lacking in that area. You're more than willing to sacrifice these humans just to slow me down. In this respect, they are clearly superior to you. Each of them would willingly sacrifice themselves for the good of the other. They were even willing to sacrifice themselves for me. Humans are morally superior to you, which is the real reason they intrigue you so."

"But you're not human, " D reminded her. "Far from it."

"No, but I have been living as one. Thank you for that. Without your assistance, I never would had the experience. Too bad you couldn't simply let me to enjoy it. You were always micro-managing, interfering, repressing, making sure I couldn't remember who I was or why I had come here. You were so afraid of what I might do. And now here I am, complete again, memory restored, and full of resentment and fury for the wrongs done to me. I am your worst fear realized - exactly what you made me."

"This is your final warning," the Continuum voice said. "Submit or be destroyed."

"That's a pretty flimsy barrier you've got there," she noted, glancing at their human shield. "I can easily cross it."

"But you'd have to annihilate them in the process," Q replied, and actually sounded concerned.

"Would you grieve for them, if I did, Q? You said you've grown fond. Have these humans managed to teach you anything about caring?"

"Apparently more than you. You know you can't win. Why destroy them for nothing? Surrender yourself now."

"Sorry, that doesn't work for me," Shea replied, then stopped playing her music. She turned to the people sitting at the table. "Brace yourselves, everyone, this is going to hurt."

A wave of white hot energy flashed through Picard and the rest of them, and they screamed in the agony of being burned alive. Then a rush of cool liquid washed over and through them almost immediately, taking the pain away. They were left there surrounded by a transparent energy field tinted blue-green, breathless and shaken, but seemingly whole.

"There. Now we can get down to business," she said, standing past the hostages now, between D and the Q.

"Impressive," D said. "They should have all died when you did that, yet you managed to protect them."

"Maybe that's what happens when you have a conscience. You can accomplish what you need without destroying what you treasure. You should try it."

"Something to think about," D acquiesced. "Meanwhile, I think the Continuum has a problem with you."

She nodded and faced them. Q, still in human form, stood in front of his glowing counterparts.

"You're going to be difficult, aren't you?" he concluded.

"Very," she replied and hit them with the same bolt of energy she had used to sear her way through the field D had created around her human friends. Q raised his hands to deflect the attack, sending it soaring above.

"Oh come now," he said. "You didn't really think that would accomplish anything."

"No, not really," she admitted and twisted her hands, bringing the energy back and around, to scoop underneath them, flowing over the tentacles, animating them, and toppling the Q like bowling pins. Before they could recover, the tentacles were grabbing at them. The Q sliced the dark vines into pieces but each severed end grew anew and with every cut, the arms doubled in quantity, snatching at the Q and crushing them. The Q were fighting back, but she deflected their combined attack, reinforced it with her own strength of will, and spun it back and around at them from both sides. Now they were separating, surrounding her, launching missiles from all directions. She spun, forming a wave, taking them down again and again. D stood away, protecting himself, but not joining in the fight. She reinforced her attack with multiple waves of varying energy fields, modulating them continuously, keeping them pinned. They were losing strength, ebbing, fading… she let up, just a bit and spoke again.

"I would prefer to end this peacefully. I'd rather work with you, but if you insist upon continuing this battle, I will end your existence and take your place."

"Truce!" Q called out.

"Accepted," she said and ceased her assault.

"The Continuum will withdraw," Q said. He waved his hand and all the Q Continuum vanished at once, leaving only the original parties. "I shall remain as witness and will not interfere."

"As you wish," she replied and turned to D, who stood encased within his own protective shield. "So, that just leaves you and me to sort out our differences."

"So it appears," D smiled. "But I think I liked it better when you called me Derek."

"That's when you wanted me to think of you as a man. Before you turned ugly."

He laughed lightly. "You haven't begun to see me ugly. I really enjoyed what you did with the Q just there. Turning the Enterprise into a living vessel combined with all those undulation frequencies…very clever. It won't work with me, however. As you well know, I can cut you off, suck that energy right out of you, and leave you empty."

"For all the good it's ever done you. You'll just have to give in again and let me go. All these games you play, the lies you tell. Why not for once, just be honest. What is it you really want?"

"To own you. Completely and utterly."

Shea shook her head. "Unacceptable."

"That's why we struggle so. I can't bear for you to exist here and be separate from me, but you refuse to either capitulate or leave. And so it continues. If you want to remain separate then leave, return to the Chaos and remain there. But if you insist on being part of this universe, then it must be as part of me. You can't have it both ways."

"I think I can."

"You're wrong," he said. His shield dissipated and he moved towards her with an outstretched hand. Suddenly a black tentacle, sparking with green energy, gripped him around the neck. Ship had phased through the outer hull. Dozens of her tentacles waved through the walls like hot green snakes, grabbing him and flailing him about. For a moment, it looked as if Ship were winning, then D simply vanished, and the glowing energy that had imbued Ship's arms disappeared leaving only the natural dark flesh. D stood among them again, clothed in the green glow stolen from Ship. Ship's now vulnerable tentacles quickly withdrew. D sucked the energy into himself and returned to his previous appearance.

"Any other party tricks you'd like to play before we get down to it?" he asked. He took a step toward her and she retreated. "You can't outmuscle me," he said. "I'm a bottomless pit. I will swallow you."

"Perhaps, but I will always resist and you will eventually grow tired of it again. How long must we play this game of attrition? It benefits no one."

"On that much we agree. We've reached an impasse… it's time to end this." D waved a hand and the shield protecting her friends vanished. Then he held out his arms and they filled with her infants. "Join me, or I will absorb their lives into mine, and make it a living hell for them."

"No!" Picard yelled in protest and started toward him. Shea jumped in between and blocked him.

"Don't worry, Captain," D replied. "You'll soon join them. And the rest of you as well, one by one. And if that isn't enough, I'll continue with every person and living creature she's ever so much as smiled upon."

"Not even you would be so cruel," she said.

"Don't underestimate me. As you said, I do what is expedient. That's the benefit of having no conscience." He pulled the babies toward his chest. "I'll start with your children."

"Stop!" Shea looked from her babies to the people behind her. "I must have your promise that none of them will be harmed."

"They're merely tools to an end. I have no interest in them other than that."

"If you release them, I'll do as you ask."

"Only if your surrender is absolute. Nothing less. If I feel any resistance this time, any at all, I will follow through on my threat. I'm out of patience."

"I understand."

"No, please, there must be another way," Picard protested.

"I'm sorry," she said, turning to look at him. Then she touched him briefly and stepped away.

"Please, don't do it!" Picard begged, but this time his opinion carried no weight. His children appeared on the table and D enmeshed himself with Shea. She disappeared into him in an instant.

D laughed and cried out with satisfaction. "Finally!"

The warmth of Shea's presence in Picard's awareness ended abruptly and he crumbled to his knees. There should have been accompanying pain, but the fact that there was none informed him that she must have done something to prevent it in that last touch. It had done nothing to diminish his grief, however.

"She has kept her end of the bargain," D said, and ran his hands over his chest and stomach as if he had just consumed a satisfying meal. "No resistance. Finally, the end of a very long struggle."

"You had no right," Picard said.

"Poor Captain. I understand that you're brokenhearted, but take comfort in recognizing that you played a vital role in resolving this. You and your friends ensured a peaceful transition of power. That was always your goal, was it not?" He turned to Riker. "Oh and good luck dealing with your newly sentient ship - her parting gift. The Enterprise is never going to be quite the same." D chuckled in amusement then abruptly vanished from view.

"I must admit that I do feel different," the Enterprise's computer voice stated, and the tentacles surrounding them trembled.

"Oh boy," Riker sighed. "I may need to borrow your resident expert on Starwhales."

A voice from the bridge addressed them.

"Captain, the crew has fully evacuated to Earth. We are being hailed by Central Command, inquiring as to the nature of our emergency. I'm unsure what to tell them."

"Thank you, Mr. Tuvok," Riker replied. "You can tell them that the emergency is over. Alert the crew that they may return to the Enterprise. I'll reprimand you later for not evacuating with the rest of them."

"Yes, sir. And sir? I'm getting very strange readouts on all the ship's monitors. Nothing is offline, but the energy readings are completely altered."

"Understood. It appears that we have undergone a transformation from a mechanically based vessel to an organic one."

"I see," Tuvok replied. "That would explain the readings."

Picard stood and gathered up his children. He looked at their small innocent faces sadly. "How are they ever going to manage?"

"They still have you," Beverly protested, "and we'll help."

He shook his head. "I'm on my way to prison. You may have to do a lot more than help."

"No one's going to prison," Riker said. "I'll explain to Starfleet how D and Q masterminded the whole thing."

"That's stretching the facts," Picard replied.

"You let me worry about that. I finally understand the magnitude of the problem you've been dealing with and what it took for you to resolve it. I'm also very sorry for your loss. So please just take your children and go. Ship's waiting… for all of you."

Picard nodded in acceptance. He called up Ship and in short order he and his crew transported away.


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40 - After the Fall - Redemption

Raising a pair of motherless twins on board a living starship had turned out to be less of a challenge than Picard had feared. Ship was an excellent babysitter. Her multiple tentacles rocked them as infants and corralled them as inquisitive toddlers, keeping them out of trouble and thoroughly entertained. Since Ship neither slept nor became distracted, they were supervised at all times. Picard never suffered a moment's doubt about their safety. The only thing he doubted was his ability to make up for the mother they lacked. After consulting with Deanna, he allowed them to interact with a holographic version of her that Ship created. At least they knew what she had looked like and how much she would have loved them if she'd had the chance. It hurt to see that realistic image of her, so lifelike, and yet so empty of her spirit. He would have banned it for his own emotional health, but overruled his personal feelings for the benefit of Richard and Tasha. As a compromise, he ordered Ship to make it disappear whenever he entered his quarters and to never interact with him. He made sure the twins knew it wasn't real and was just for pretend.

Richard and Tasha were turning four years old today. He was on his way to retrieve them and take them to the large Holodeck, where the crew had come up with a birthday celebration designed especially for them - a fanciful water-based amusement park. The pair were like little fish, just as their mother had been. Four years… hard to believe. At times it felt like four hundred, at others, zero. He'd heard nothing from Q or D since that day. Apparently, the humans had served their purpose. It was the general consensus that these entities had been employing them all along to guide her toward capitulation by encouraging her to form emotional attachments to be used against her.

He felt heartbroken and guilty whenever he thought about it, so mostly he tried not to. He needed to be strong for his children. He didn't want them to feel that same vulnerability, to know their fates could be decided with a snap of finger, or a dismissive blink. Whenever he thought of it, he vacillated between rage and remorse, remembering how he and his crew had failed her, and in that failing, lost her. He slapped himself mentally for going to that dark place again. Today was his children's birthday.

_Smile, dammit. _

He paused outside the door to get himself in the right frame of mind. He took a big breath, put a pleasant expression on his face and entered. They weren't immediately visible, so he called out.

"Richard, Tasha. Time to go."

The boy came running down the hall toward him, "Papa!"

He scooped the boy up into his arms. "Are you ready for your birthday party? Everyone's waiting for you. Now where's your sister?" Then he saw her in the hallway. "Come along, Tasha."

"No," his daughter replied. "I want to stay here with Ma-ma."

Picard scowled. Perhaps it was time to end their interaction with that hologram, if it was leading to this kind of unhealthy attachment.

"Tasha, have you forgotten? You have a birthday party to go to." He'd never known her to turn down a party.

"I'm not going unless she goes," Tasha replied stubbornly and crossed her arms, planting herself firmly.

Picard couldn't help but smile. She had never resembled her mother more. This couldn't be about the hologram surely. She knew Ship was under orders that it never leave their quarters. This had be an excuse for something else. He decided to call her bluff. "Fine, bring her along then."

She spun and ran back into her bedroom. A moment later, she emerged holding the hologram's hand. He averted his eyes and exhaled in dismay. He hadn't allowed himself to look at Shea's image in a long time. The idea of this doppelganger joining the celebration was unthinkable. He had to talk his daughter out of this.

"I'm sorry, Tasha, but…" he started to say, when the hologram interrupted.

"Jean-Luc," it said in her voice.

The fact that it had addressed him shocked him and filled him with anger. He had specifically ordered Ship never to let it interact with him. He refused to look at it.

"Ship, shut it down, now."

Ship did not respond and the Shea pretender stayed in place.

"Jean-Luc, it's me. I'm here," she said.

Half-hopeful and half-fearful, he allowed himself to look and immediately, he knew. This was no hologram. He could feel her, but he still couldn't believe it.

"This can't be real. How… how can you be here?"

"D finally grew a conscience," she replied.

Picard set his son down, and closed the gap between them. He first touched her on the cheek to see if he were dreaming. She felt real enough under his fingertips. Then he grabbed her in an embrace. He wanted to fall into her mind, but she simply held him in her arms instead, and kept repeating, "I'm here, I'm here..." For now it was enough, more than enough. It took a long time, but he finally took a half step back, so he could look her in the face.

"I don't understand how this is possible."

"Remember what I told you of my experience with the Borg? How I couldn't find a way to defeat them, so I allowed myself to be assimilated?"

He nodded, remembering what she'd said. "Sometimes the only way out of a maze is to go all the way in."

"Exactly. There was no way to eliminate D or even the Q, though you might have heard me threaten to. They're pure energy and cannot be destroyed. They can only be influenced."

"So you influenced D, changed him from within? You gave him a conscience?"

"Yes. Just as you did for me. You taught me well. Don't you ever for one moment, think you failed, that you didn't make a difference."

He felt such a rush of raw emotion that he sobbed and grabbed her again, letting the guilt and sadness wash away from him. He felt relieved to his core, but he still wasn't sure what this all meant.

"How long can you stay?" he asked.

"As long as it takes to keep my promises."

"That would take a lifetime."

"Then that's how long I'll stay."

He smiled again, ridiculously happy at the prospect, but he still had so many questions. "So how is this going to work? Your being this super powerful intellect, this Q-like being?"

"You needn't worry. This part of me here with you is human."

"But if you're still connected to that other part…"

"It's not a conscious connection. I could summon her - she calls herself 'S' -, but I'm no more likely to do that than you are to call on Q."

"S?" He nearly laughed, thinking of Shea's snake-headed Jolly-Roger, but quickly grew serious again. "What about D?"

"He has S. His human creation served its purpose and he has no further need of it. Now it's mine to enjoy. If either he or the Q try to mess with me again, they'll have to answer to S."

"Which part is really you?" he asked, trying to wrap his mind around this.

"All of it. But as I am here, I don't wield any super powers. I'm just flesh and blood, same as I was before. Well, not exactly the same. I made a few improvements. No more addictions."

"Really?" Then he looked down at his two children, hanging on to every word. "Children, go play in the bedroom for a few minutes. Mother and Father need to talk privately."

For a moment, they looked like they weren't budging, but Shea scooted them along, promising something special for them if they did. He waited until they were out of earshot.

"So you're telling me that you don't need men anymore?" he whispered, wondering if that were actually an improvement.

"No. But I still like them."

He nodded in relief. "Good, since I happen to be one But you have no need of extra-marital affairs now?"

"Not physical needs. But as I said, I do intend to keep my promises. The difference is that I can act out of choice now rather than necessity."

"Out of choice? Sounds like we're going to have some interesting discussions on this topic."

"I intend to have interesting discussions with you on a lot of topics."

He frowned uncertainly. "So, will you renew our bond then?"

"It's never been severed. But I think we should go slow on reawakening ourselves to each other. Let things evolve naturally. I'm done tearing through life, trying desperately to understand what it all means. I know who I am now and I want to savor every moment as it comes."

"That sounds reasonable, but I honestly have no idea what it means in practice. What do you mean, go slow? You're the mother of those children and still my wife. A wife lives with her husband and tends to her children."

"True, but if you're not comfortable with that, we could make other arrangements."

"The hell we will. You'll stay here with me."

"Aye, aye, Captain," she said, smirking at him.

He realized he'd been barking orders. "I'm sorry. I'm behaving badly. I'm just completely thrown here. I'm so happy to have you back and desperate to make everything right again."

"I know. That's why you need to take a deep breath, calm down and let it happen naturally. Stop trying to control everything. I'm not going anywhere, and no one's threatening us. We have time, all the time we need."

He took that deep breath and tried to relax, recognizing that his emotions were all over the place. Part of him still felt like he was going to wake suddenly and find he'd imagined the whole thing. He felt like calling for witnesses to make sure this was real. Maybe it wasn't. Ship hadn't said a word.

"Ship, tell him I'm real," Shea said tiredly.

"Of course, she's real," Ship stated. "I was respecting your privacy."

"Is there anyone else you'd like to summon for corroboration?"

Picard shook his head, "No, I don't think so. Sorry to be so slow."

"It's all right. I know this a shock. Why don't you bring me up to date? Tell me about the crew."

"The crew? All right. Well… some stayed, some moved on. Chorack went to war, off to fight the Dominion, then reclaimed his rights to the House of Targ. He's gotten married and I heard his wife's expecting a child. Spock returned to Romulus - no surprise - and the Tal Shiar have since fallen from grace."

"Not because he…?"

"No, no, he's fine. Dr. Bashir used that same nanotechnology he used on you to help Spock. He was in complete remission last I heard."

"So Julian stayed on?"

"For awhile, but then he reconnected with a woman he'd known at Deep Space Nine. I guess they'd had an on-again, off-again relationship over the years. He decided to try to make a go of it again. I hated to see him leave, but we managed to find a good replacement. The EMH Doctor from the Voyager. He was impressed by the way we interacted with Data, and didn't really feel accepted on Earth. So now he's with us."

Shea rolled her eyes. "That hologram Doctor? That's going to take some getting used to."

"He's an excellent physician. And he'll probably be more appropriate with you than Julian ever was," Picard stated before continuing. "Scotty and Bleton are still here, still working together. Bleton and his wives have added three youngsters to the crew. They're like little green spiders, climbing the walls, getting into everything. Richard and Tasha are fascinated by them. And Sakonna stayed. She's turned out to be quite an asset. I recently put her in charge of Operations."

"Oh," she said, clearly disappointed. "Data's moved on then."

"No. Data has definitely not moved on. He's still here, still my Number One. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he never gave up on the possibility that you might return. In the meantime, he's been a doting uncle to Tasha and Richard."

She smiled happily. "I can't wait to see him. Is he going to be at this birthday party Tasha mentioned?"

"Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. The crew's planned quite a celebration," he said and glanced at the time. "We're late. Tasha, Richard, you can come out now. We really should go. Everyone's waiting."

"Am I invited?" Shea asked, as they ran toward her. "I've never turned down a party."

"Of course, you're invited. Absolutely." He imagined walking into the holodeck with Shea on his arm - seeing the look on everyone's faces. "Although, your sudden re-appearance may steal some of the limelight from your children."

She glanced down at her son and daughter, who were clinging to her happily. "I think they'll survive."

Picard smiled seeing the joy on their faces. "So we're really back together - a family again - just like that."

"Just like that."

Picard nodded in amazement, and let the realization of this changed reality fill him with a happiness he'd thought he'd never experience. It was all he had ever wanted. He also desperately wanted to kiss her, but he knew once he did, he wouldn't be able to stop. That part of their reconnection would have to wait. Take it slow, let it evolve naturally, just like she'd said. Savor every moment. There was no rush. They had all the time they would need.

So instead of kissing her, he took her hand in his own and his son's hand in the other while she took hold of their daughter's hand, and together, the four of them walked out the door, headed for what he knew would be one very remarkable celebration.


End file.
